LA  BELLE 
SAN  ANTON] 


JOHONNAS 
BENNETT 


LA  BELLE  SAN  ANTONE 


LA    BELLE 
SAN  ANTONE 


By 
JOHONNAS  BENNETT 


NEW  YORK  AND  WASHINGTON 

THE  NEALE  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
1909 


Copyright,  1909,  by 
THE  NEALE  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


La  Belle  San  Antone 


CHAPTER   I 

The  beautiful,  boundless,  and  breezy  realm  of 
old  Texas!  How  well  beloved  by  her  own  since 
the  first  days  of  her  coming  to  us,  full  of  wild 
possibilities  and  daring  adventure;  her  es- 
cutcheon baptized  in  the  blood  of  the  Spanish 
and  Mexican  wars,  and  the  period  of  her  an- 
nexation, so  rife  with  the  stench  of  unparalleled 
atrocities  in  the  murder  of  her  noble  martyrs, 
her  banners  tattered  and  torn,  and  the  star  of 
her  destiny,  rising  Phoenix-like  from  the  ashes 
of  the  past,  to  grow  for  a  brighter  fate,  a  better 
day. 

Come  with  me,  and  as  we  tread  the  bloom  of 
her  flower-strewn  prairies  and  the  burning 
sands  of  her  lonely  plains  I  will  tell  you  about 
the  hearts  of  her  men  and  women,  so  true  and 
loving  and  so  unchanging  in  their  fidelity;  faith- 
ful, courageous  and  enduring;  ever  ready  to  ex- 
tend their  hospitality  to  the  strangers  at  their 
doors,  or  to  let  their  life-blood  flow  for  loved 
ones  endangered.  For  the  beginning  of  the  story 
herein  told  we  find  ourselves  harking  back  to 
the  days  when  she  first  began  making  history 

267469 


8  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

for  herself,  days  when  she  was  yet  a  Spanish 
province,  and  ruled  by  a  Spanish  monarch. 

It  was  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  more,  that  a 
bold  herdsman,  seeking  as  did  Jason  "the 
golden  fleece, "  found  the  end  of  his  journeyings 
as  he  reached  the  boundless  plains  of  the  beau- 
tiful Southwest.  Fresh  from  adventures  by  sea 
and  land,  with  a  stout  heart,  a  strong  arm,  and 
a  splendid  constitution,  Theodore  Hackett  found 
himself  tarrying  for  a  day  from  his  travels  at  a 
little  semi-barbaric  town  far  to  the  southwest. 
While  he  tarried  his  feet  took  root  in  the  soil, 
and  he  grew  to  be  a  part  of  the  place,  its  sur- 
roundings and  its  people.  It  was  a  place  filled 
with  mixed  breeds  of  men,  Spanish  and  French 
predominating,  and  the  town  was  called  indis- 
criminately by  the  two  separate  names  given  it 
by  the  predominating  forces  of  Spanish  or 
French,  as  the  case  might  be.  To-day  it  was 
de  Bajar,  as  the  old  French  explorers  would 
have  it,  to-morrow  it  was  San  Antonio,  so  called 
for  the  head  of  the  Franciscan  Brotherhood,  San 
Antonio  Valges,  who  had  established  his  mission 
here  in  the  year  1716.  From  its  earliest  days  the 
town  was  the  scene  of  uprisals,  fights,  and  dis- 
sension. It  was  most  of  the  time  the  capital, 
and  always  an  important  military  encampment ; 
its  settlement  had  grown  out  of  the  fierce  riv- 
alry between  Spain  and  France  for  the  posses- 
sion of  the  town. 

Probably  no  foot  of  ground  in  the  great  Em- 
pire State  of  the  Southwest  was  ever  so  bitterly 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  9 

v 

contested  as  was  this  old  French  and  Spanish 
military  camp.  By  a  royal  decree  in  the  year 
1730  an  effort  was  made  by  the  King  of  Spain 
to  colonize  the  new  Southwest,  and  something 
near  twenty  families  were  brought  from  the 
Canary  Islands  for  this  purpose.  To  each  fam- 
ily was  given  a  large  grant  of  land,  and  the 
heads  of  the  families  were  raised  to  the  dignity 
of  a  hidalgo. 

The  new  colonists  established  the  pueblo,  or 
village,  near  the  presidio,  then  more  commonly 
called  Plaza-de-las-Yslas.  From  these  families 
sprang  native-born  men  and  women,  who  grew 
into  maturity  in  the  very  midst  of  a  "hand  at 
the  sword  hilt"  sectional  feeling,  and  about 
them  clung  the  air  and  bearing  of  a  people  ac- 
customed to  danger,  and  who  fostered  and 
engendered  deep  feelings,  be  it  love  or  be  it 
hatred,  as  the  occasion  should  demand. 

Among  the  colonists  were  men  and  women  of 
good  origin  who  had  intermarried  with  the 
Spanish  and  French  habitants  of  the  town, 
whose  coming  had  preceded  that  of  the  colon- 
ists, and  the  outcome  of  these  unions  was  the 
founding  of  noble  families. 

Fourteen  years  later  the  old  mission  of  San 
Antonio  Valges  was  moved  farther  east,  to  the 
site  occupied  by  the  chapel  of  that  mission, 
which  is  now  known  as  the  Alamo.  Those  were 
dreadful  days  when  the  historic  old  town  gave 
its  first  habitation  to  man  and  began  making 
history  for  herself. 


10  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

During  the  long  revolutionary  war  of  Mexico 
with  Spain  the  old  town  witnessed  many  scenes 
of  strife  and  bloodshed.  Revolutionist  against 
Eoyalist  engaged  in  bitter  contest  for  the  pos- 
session of  the  town,  amid  scenes  of  unparalleled 
atrocity.  If  to-day  the  Royalists  won  the  vic- 
tory, they  turned  upon  their  enemies  with  a 
thirst  for  revenge  that  appeased  itself  in  bloody 
butcheries ;  if  to-morrow  the  Revolutionists  were 
victorious,  it  was  but  a  cruel  repetition  of  mur- 
dering their  captives. 

As  though  seeking  to  augment  the  reign  of 
terror,  the  town  became  a  favorite  haunt  for 
Spanish  buccaneers  and  freebooters,  who  pil- 
laged the  place  during  the  frequent  uprisals. 

Gay,  reckless,  devil-may-care  fellows,  by  the 
witchery  of  their  handsome  faces  and  reckless 
mien  they  won  the  hearts  of  the  young  and 
beautiful  senoritas  of  the  old  provincial  town. 
Some  of  them  married,  and  won  from  their  law- 
less quest  for  booty  by  the  glamour  of  love,  set- 
tled into  law-abiding  men,  while  others  wooed 
but  for  a  day,  and  in  the  wake  of  their  departure 
left  sorrowing  hearts  and  blighted  lives  to  mark, 
as  ghastly  milestones,  their  lawless  pilgrimage 
through  life. 

The  town,  all  the  time  under  military  rule, 
was  controlled  by  the  faction  in  power.  The 
citizens  had  become  accustomed  to  the  war-like 
spirit  of  the  times,  and  men,  women  and  children 
felt  a  consequent  pride  when  their  respective 
banners  were  waving  victoriously  over  the  town. 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  11 

Hackett  liked  the  wild,  tumultuous  life  of  the 
fort.  The  gay  uniforms  of  the  Spanish  officers, 
their  dark,  swarthy  faces,  the  soft,  musical  lan- 
guage of  the  Spanish  tongue,  the  clanking  of 
spurs  and  sabers  made  a  brightly  colored  pic- 
ture that  pleased  his  fancy.  The  coffee-houses, 
where  the  motley  crowd  from  the  street  gath- 
ered for  their  meals ;  the  narrow,  winding  streets 
that  passed  the  different  shops,  with  here  and 
there  a  pit  for  cock-fighting,  with  its  never- vary- 
ing crowd  of  booted  and  spurred  caballeros,  their 
dark  faces  benea'th  their  peaked  hats  looking 
eager  and  intense  as  they  watched  the  progress 
of  the  cock-fight — all  this  appealed  to  Hackett 's 
adventurous  soul.  There  had  come  a  day  of 
rest  from  the  bloody  contest,  lasting  longer  than 
those  that  had  gone  before.  Gutierrez  and  Del- 
gado,  with  their  terrible  troops,  had  been  driven 
back  and  the  Eoyalists  held  the  town  under  the 
heavy  hand  of  Salcedo  's  garrisoned  troops.  The 
silken-girdled  matador  and  the  bull-ring,  the 
cock-pit  and  chicken-fighting  had  supplanted 
the  clash  of  battle  and  the  victor's  triumphant 
cry. 

These  were  blithe,  stirring  days,  such  as  could 
not  fail  to  appeal  to  Hackett 's  adventurous 
nature.  He  had  first  seen  the  light  of  day  among 
old  Scotia's  hills,  born  of  an  ancient  Scotch 
clan  numbering  in  its  time  many  a  hard  rider 
and  good  fighter,  and  more  than  one  of  whose 
petty  chieftains,  half  shepherd  and  half  rob- 
ber, had  made  good  the  winter  inroads  into 


12  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

their  stock  of  beeves  by  spring  forays  and  cattle 
drives  across  the  English  border.  He  had  wan- 
dered from  his  native  heath,  driven  by  a  strong 
desire  to  visit  the  unknown  and  unexplored 
regions — never  retracing,  but  always  pressing 
farther  on,  seldom  stopping  long  at  any  one 
place.  At  the  close  of  a  twelve-month  of  service 
in  the  employ  of  the  shipyards  at  Lisbon  he 
boarded  a  cruiser,  turning  his  face  toward  the 
New  World,  still  in  search  of  his  "golden 
fleece. "  After  many  thrilling  and  hair-breadth 
escapes  his  vessel  struck  on  Matagorda  Island, 
off  San  Antonio  Bay,  and  with  a  small  leathern 
wallet  of  golden  doubloons  he  made  his  way  up 
the  river  until  he  arrived  at  the  little  be- 
leaguered town  above  the  forks  of  the  river. 
Here  he  rested  for  a  season  of  pleasure  and  to 
familiarize  himself  with  the  place  and  its  people. 


CHAPTER   II 

Hackett  soon  made  a  careful  survey  of  the 
town,  making  a  mental  inventory  of  its  people, 
and  rounded  up  for  the  finish  at  "The  King's 
Tavern, "  a  rakish-looking  place  with  low, 
smoke-begrimed  roof,  and  a  dingy  bar,  where  a 
Spaniard  with  a  pointed,  jetty  goatee  dispensed 
his  intoxicants  to  the  frequenters  of  his  place. 
It  was  a  beastly  night  outside,  for  the  spring- 
slush  was  on  and  a  terrific  equinoctial  storm  was 
raging,  driving  all  kinds  of  men  to  hunt  shelter, 
and  "The  King's  Tavern,"  on  Navarro  street, 
was  filled  with  a  motley  crowd,  ready  for  sport 
at  the  first  available  opportunity.  Black  clouds 
swept  their  trailing  skirts  over  the  town  with  a 
beating  downpour  of  rain;  deafening  peals  of 
thunder  broke  with  booming  crashes,  the  lurid 
flashes  of  the  reports  ripping  the  black  clouds  in 
zigzag  lines,  but  the  rain-drenched  men  entering 
the  low,  wide  door  of  the  tavern  left  the  battle 
of  the  elements  behind,  and  entered  with  zest 
and  vigor  into  their  rude  enjoyments  and  ribald 
gaiety.  Hackett  drank  with  them,  laughed  with 
them,  and  before  he  had  been  long  in  their  midst 
was  one  of  them  in  the  games  at  the  gambling 
tables.  ' l  A  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Mexico ' '  he  was 
dubbed  by  the  spokesman  of  the  wet,  steamy, 


14  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

tobacco-scented  crowd,  and  a  general  toast  all 
around  was  ordered  and  drunk  to  Ms  health. 

This  was  Hackett 's  initiation  into  the  "  gilt- 
edged  "  gambling  element  of  Bexar,  and  he  had 
not  been  a  week  in  the  town  until  he  had  become 
thoroughly  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  the  town, 
its  people,  and  their  ways.  He  had  gambled  on 
the  green  cloth  and  at  the  cock-pits,  won  money 
and  lost,  had  several  fights  which  proved  the 
heavy  hand  he  carried,  and  had  drunk  peace 
with  his  enemies  over  their  cups  of  black  coffee, 
and  eaten  their  favorite  "tamales"  with  them. 
Last  of  all,  but  not  least,  he  had  fallen  in  love 
with  a  beautiful  black-eyed  senorita,  with  rich, 
red  lips  and  dusky  black  hair.  Love  of  adven- 
ture alone  had  filled  his  life  until  he  was  caught 
in  the  web  of  fiery  glances  from  the  Spanish 
maiden's  slumberous  eyes.  She  lived  away  out 
on  one  of  the  crooked,  narrow  streets  of  the 
town,  in  an  old  two-story  adobe  with  yellow- 
tiled  roof  and  whitewashed  walls.  The  fiery 
heart  of  the  pomegranate  bloomed  in  profusion 
against  the  walls,  and  a  group  of  stunted  pal- 
metto trees  gave  shade  over  the  old  well  at  the 
back  door,  where,  weekly,  Norveta  and  her 
mother  washed  and  dried  their  clothes. 

It  was  here  at  the  old  well  that  Hackett  had 
first  seen  her,  with  her  brown,  dimpled  arms 
bared  for  the  homely  task  over  the  tub;  but  for- 
evermore  that  occupation  was  raised  to  the  pic- 
turesque and  beautiful  for  Hackett,  for  Love, 
with  his  golden  wand,  had  lit  the  world  with  a 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  15 

new  and  magical  light  for  the  bold  and  daring 
rover.  He  forgot  how  he  had  happened  to  come 
that  way;  he  only  knew  that  he  had  been  taking 
a  general  survey  of  the  town,  out  past  the  homes 
of  the  old  grandees,  where  the  sunlight  glanced 
through  the  fantastically  grilled  iron  gates  and 
lit  up  the  "patio,"  or  inner  courts,  with  their 
fountains  and  the  cooling  sound  of  dripping 
water,  faintly  imitating  the  grand  and  beautiful 
homes  of  far  Seville  and  old  Madrid.  The  morn- 
ing was  filled  with  sunlight,  the  song  of  birds, 
and  the  musical  swish  of  the  waters  in  the  river. 

Charmed  with  the  scene  that  lay  about  him, 
Hackett  had  wandered  on  until  he  came  to  a 
place  where  the  narrow,  winding  street  led  up- 
hill. It  was  a  back  street,  and  turning  first  to 
right  and  then  to  left,  he  finally  came  to  an  old 
garden  wall.  Looking  over  the  low  stone  wall, 
Hackett  first  viewed  the  yellow  tiles  of  the  roof, 
the  vine-covered  walls,  the  cool  shade  of  the  big 
trees  and  the  women  washing  at  the  well.  Feel- 
ing extremely  thirsty  from  his  long  walk,  he 
vaulted  over  the  low  stone  fence  and  advanced 
toward  the  women  beside  the  well.  During  the 
many  months  he  had  spent  among  the  Portu- 
guese and  Spanish  he  had  picked  up  an  easy 
vocabulary  of  their  native  tongue,  and  it  was  in 
their  own  language  that  he  addressed  the  women 
as  he  asked  for  a  drink. 

Hackett  took  the  gourd  the  girl  handed  to 
him,  dripping  with  the  cool  water  from  the  dark 
depths  of  the  well,  but  for  the  moment  he  left 


16  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

its  contents  untouched  as  he  gazed  into  the 
maiden's  face,  with  its  soft,  sweet  beauty.  He 
leaned  against  the  trunk  of  one  of  the  old  pal- 
metto trees  when  he  had  slaked  his  thirst,  and 
talked  to  them  until  it  was  no  longer  polite  for 
him  to  tarry,  then  he  bade  them  adieu  and  went 
his  way;  but  he  never  forgot  the  place  where 
Norveta  lived,  with  its  narrow,  winding  street 
leading  up  the  hill,  and  he  came  again  another 
day,  and  still  another,  to  sit  upon  the  old  wooden 
bench  beneath  the  pomegranates  with  her,  and 
talk  to  her  of  love,  the  theme  that  never  grows 
old.  And  Norveta — child  of  the  sun-kissed 
prairies  and  burning  southern  skies — loved  back 
with  a  fateful  love  that  was  deep,  strong  and 
powerful  like  the  proverbial  love  of  her  warm- 
hearted race. 

Her  people  had  suffered  much  during  the 
many  uprisals  in  the  town.  Two  brothers  and 
her  father  had  been  massacred  by  the  Royalists 
with  other  prisoners  who  had  been  captured 
during  the  last  fighting,  and  only  she  and  her 
mother,  Senora  Mendoza,  lived  at  the  old  home 
now,  once  the  scene  of  happiness  and  prosperity, 
but  now  accursed  with  the  direst  poverty.  Their 
chief  resource  for  their  living  was  derived  from 
the  delicious  "dulces"  which  the  old  senora 
made  with  her  own  hands  for  the  sweet  tooth  of 
the  fashionable  and  rich  donas  of  the  town.  A 
couple  of  little  Mexican  boys  came  each  day  to 
fetch  the  cakes,  fresh  from  the  oven,  to  the  old 
senora 's  patrons.  Besides  the  ' i  dulces, ' '  Senora 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  17 

Mendoza  also  twirled  up  extra  dainty  and  choice 
"tamales,"  which  were  distributed  by  the  little 
vendors  at  the  different  available  points  on  the 
streets  in  the  evening. 

One  day  when  Hackett  had  come  and  gone, 
and  Norveta  still  sat  where  he  had  left  her,  on 
the  old  wooden  bench  beneath  the  pomegranates, 
the  old  Mexican  woman  looked  askance  at  her 
from  the  corner  of  her  eye. 

"Jesu,  Marie  and  Jose,  what  has  come  upon 
her  I"  Something  whispered  in  her  ear,  "It  is 
Love."  The  old  grizzled  head  was  lifted  with 
the  old-time  haughty  poise,  and  the  weather- 
scarred  face  wore  a  sardonic  smile  as  to  herself 
she  said,  "Caramba!  what  have  we  to  do  with 
love  ?  Better  the  desert  eagle *s  cry  and  the  bark 
of  the  wild  dogs  hunting  for  prey  than  the  soft- 
footed  enemy  that  makes  us  forget  that  there 
must  come  a  day  when  we  are  to  have  our 
revenge!" 

The  old  face  gleamed  with  a  diabolical  light 
as  she  lifted  a  brown,  shriveled  hand  and  shook 
it  menacingly  toward  the  town  below.  "Ah! 
sweet  will  be  that  revenge  when  you,  Salcedo, 
shall  be  pulled  from  your  safe  place  and  given 
to  the  dogs  for  carrion.  May  the  souls  in  purga- 
tory, that  you  have  hurled  to  their  untimely 
deaths,  wail  their  curses  upon  you  and  yours 
forever!"  She  sat  down  upon  her  favorite  seat 
beside  the  well,  lit  her  old  clay  pipe  and  began 
to  smoke,  but  in  reality  to  dream  of  other  days- 
days  when  she  loved  and  was  beloved,  and  her 


18  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

home  was  the  scene  of  happiness,  ease  and  pros- 
perity. She  sat  long,  dreaming  all  the  while  of 
the  glorious  past,  until  the  embers  in  her  pipe 
died  out,  and  the  stem  was  tightly  clenched 
between  her  worn,  brown  teeth;  still  they  sat, 
both  of  them  dreaming,  until  the  night  shades 
had  fallen,  and  the  soft  southern  moonlight  fil- 
tered down  through  pomegranate  and  palmetto 
upon  the  drooping,  dusky  head  of  the  senorita, 
and  lit  up  with  its  soft  beauty  the  weather- 
scarred  and  sorrowful  face  of  the  senora.  Com- 
ing up  from  the  gypsy  camps  on  the  river  far 
below  could  be  heard  the  sound  of  night  revel- 
ries, the  singing  of  wild  border  songs,  and  the 
twang  of  the  guitar.  Off  toward  the  presidio 
the  cavalry  bugles  were  sounding  "taps,"  and 
the  river  ran  smooth  beneath  the  tracings  of  the 
moonbeams  that  filtered  down  through  the 
branches  of  the  trees  on  the  face  of  its  waters 
below. 


CHAPTER   III 

Stretching  away  to  the  westward  and  to  the 
south  from  the  fort  were  leagues  upon  leagues 
of  open  land,  filled  with  great  herds  of  wild 
horses  and  cattle,  the  free  booty  for  whomsoever 
could  take  them.  Countless  buffalo,  deer  and 
antelope  roamed  the  plains  and  furnished  sport 
for  the  chase.  It  was  a  fair  land  of  promise  into 
which  Hackett  had  ridden,  first  as  an  exploiting 
scheme,  and  later  to  take  up  his  abode  and  make 
for  himself  a  habitation  in  the  midst  of  the  vast 
stillness  of  the  plains.  In  a  beautiful  valley 
near  where  the  line  of  the  old  military  road  lead- 
ing to  Monterey  afterwards  ran,  was  the  place 
chosen  by  our  adventurous  friend  for  his  future 
home. 

One  hundred  miles  across  country  as  the  crow 
flies  lay  the  sylvan  spot  Hackett  had  settled 
upon  as  the  place  where  his  ranchero  should  be. 
Hardly  had  he  selected  the  future  heath  whereon 
he  determined  to  plant  his  foot  when  the  old 
bloody  scenes  on  the  streets  of  San  Antonio  were 
being  re-enacted. 

Delgado,  a  prominent  leader  of  the  Revolu- 
tionists, had  been  captured,  and  Salcedo,  the 
Spanish  governor,  ordered  him  executed.  The 
head  of  Delgado  was  stuck  upon  a  pole  in  the 
central  part  of  the  town,  and  left  there,  a  grue- 


20  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

some  object  to  look  upon  for  days,  as  a  threat 
to  all  dogs  of  the  revolution.  But  twelve  months 
later  the  war  was  in  full  blast  that  the  execution 
of  Delgado  had  started.  At  the  terrible  battle 
of  the  Rosello,  a  few  miles  outside  the  city,  Gov- 
ernor Salcedo  was  defeated,  with  the  loss  of  a 
thousand  men.  He  was  captured  by  Gutierrez, 
leader  of  the  Mexican  Revolutionists,  and  was 
butchered  in  cold  blood,  with  fifteen  other  Span- 
ish officers  who  had  surrendered,  in  retaliation 
for  the  execution  of  Delgado.  The  town  was 
now  under  the  rule  of  the  Revolutionists,  and 
the  old-time  bitter  feud  of  foe  against  foe  was 
open  and  bleeding  again.  All  members  of  the 
Royalist  party  had  need  to  flee  the  city  for  the 
safety  of  their  lives. 

The  home  of  the  old  Mexican  woman,  Emanu- 
ella  Mendoza,  had  awakened  from  its  long  leth- 
argy and  was  once  more  the  scene  of  life  and 
animation,  for  the  Mexican  and  American  forces, 
headed  by  Gutierrez  and  Colonel  Perry,  were 
garrisoned  at  the  Plaza-de-las-Yslas.  Her  old 
heart  ached  when  she  saw  the  dark  swarthy  men 
coming  home  to  their  own  again,  and  her  sons 
and  husband  were  no  longer  numbered  among 
them.  She  had  laid  down  all  hopes  in  life,  and 
wept  and  cried  the  day  they  were  all  three  laid 
in  their  new  graves,  shot  as  traitors  to  the 
crown  by  the  orders  of  Salcedo,  the  ravenous 
bloodhound  who  had  held  the  old  town  by  the 
throat  for  so  long.  Tears  and  grief  will  maim, 
but  will  not  kill  their  victim,  and  so  Emanuella 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  21 

had  lived  on,  but  in  her  heart  the  graves  of  her 
beloved  dead  were  never  closed.  She  had  stood 
with  the  crowd  by  the  roadside  along  the  way 
where  Salcedo  and  his  officers  were  taken  out  to 
be  shot.  In  her  black  eyes  there  was  no  pity, 
and  her  large  mouth  was  set  and  stern,  for  she 
recalled  another  day  when  her  heart  was 
crushed  and  her  home  laid  waste  by  this  same 
man.  Again  she  lifted  her  old  brown,  toil-worn 
hand,  and  called  upon  Heaven  to  avenge  her 
woes,  and  blessed  God  for  removing  from  off  the 
earth  the  fiend  who  had  lit  the  holocaust  that 
had  wrecked  her  home  and  broken  her  heart. 

"At  last!"  she  cried,  as  she  stood  with  her 
brown  hand  still  uplifted,  l  '  the  curse  has  fallen. 
There  will  be  other  graves  to-night  for  the  winds 
to  moan  over  and  the  whippoorwills  to  sing  their 
lonely  songs  for,  and  there  will  be  hearts  to  ache 
and  bleed  in  the  home  of  Salcedo,  as  did  old 
Emanuella's  and  little  Norveta's  on  that  bitter 
day  so  long  ago!"  and  turning  away  from  the 
jeering  crowd  she  directed  her  footsteps  home- 
ward, looking  lonely  and  isolated  in  her  great 
grief  as  she  made  her  way  toward  the  house 
amid  the  big  trees  on  the  hill. 

It  was  a  picturesque  old  place,  with  its  big 
trees,  vines  and  flowering  shrubs.  The  two 
great  oaken  entrance  doors,  thickly  studded 
with  large-headed  iron  nails,  were  portentous 
looking.  Square  red  tiles  were  on  the  floor,  and 
were  fitted  into  the  stairway  leading  to  the  two 
bedrooms  above.  The  kitchen  and  living-room 


22  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

were  on  the  lower  floor.  A  well-scrubbed  square 
table,  a  wooden  settee,  and  several  low-seated 
chairs  formed  the  furnishings  of  the  living- 
room.  Over  the  table  hung  two  pictures  of  fa- 
vorite saints,  and  upon  the  opposite  wall  hung 
a  Spanish  painting  in  brightly  colored  tones, 
representing  the  Alhambra. 

The  kitchen  also  had  a  tiled  floor,  and  against 
one  wall  was  a  shelf  holding  large,  semi-porous 
water  jars.  Upon  the  other  wall  and  over  a 
heavy  stand  was  another  long  shelf,  reaching 
the  entire  length  of  the  kitchen.  Bottles  of 
every  description,  stone  jars  and  yellow  cooking 
crockery  were  grouped  upon  it.  The  hearth 
stretched  across  the  farther  end  of  the  room, 
slightly  raised  under  a  projecting  hood,  and  the 
smoke  curled  upward  in  long,  lazy  ribbons 
which  had  streaked  the  one-time  white  wall. 
Large  iron  ovens  with  tight-fitting  lids  stood 
upon  the  hearth.  These  were  in  daily  use  by  the 
old  senora  when  she  was  preparing  her  tooth- 
some dulces  for  the  market.  Great  strings  of 
chilli  peppers  festooned  one  corner  near  the 
chimney  hood,  and  hung  in  long  loops  from  the 
black  rafters;  these  also  were  used  for  market 
purposes  in  the  flavor  of  her  tamales  and  chilli- 
con-carne.  Norveta  either  helped  with  the  mak- 
ing of  the  dulces  and  tamales  for  the  market, 
or  took  her  time  to  herself,  as  the  mood  might 
please  her.  The  old  dona  required  no  service 
from  her  to  be  able  to  earn  their  living,  and  all 
that  she  did  was  for  love  of  her  only  child.  Had 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  23 

it  not  been  for  her  one  earthly  treasure  she 
would  have  had  no  incentive  to  work.  When 
not  helping  her  mother  with  the  making  of  the 
tamales  and  cakes  Norveta  spent  the  time  be- 
neath the  shade  of  the  trees,  reading  from  the 
story-books  that  had  once  been  the  pride  and 
joy  of  her  two  brothers,  Baptiste  and  Juan, 
whose  untimely  death  had  sent  them  to  their 
early  graves,  martyrs  upon  the  altar  of  their 
country's  freedom.  There  were  many  of  the 
books,  and  they  were  filled  with  tales  of  travel, 
of  adventure  by  sea  and  land,  of  the  Old  World, 
with  its  kings  and  queens,  and  of  Spain  and  the 
grandeur  of  her  palaces  and  halls.  . 

The  girl  was  wholly  artless  in  her  love  of 
books  and  of  discussing  them  with  the  soldiers 
and  officers  of  the  Mexican  troops  who  some- 
times visited  their  home.  Her  father  had  been 
one  of  their  leaders,  and  these  books  she  loved 
so  well — histories,  biographies,  and  tales  of 
travel  in  foreign  lands — had  been  shipped  to 
him  regularly  once  a  year,  during  the  last  years 
of  his  life,  from  Mexico  City.  Hackett  often 
came  and  read  with  her  as  they  sat  beneath  the 
shade  of  the  trees,  and  he  told  her  stories  of  his 
own  making,  of  places  he  had  been,  countries 
he  had  seen,  and  much  of  the  romance  of  his 
own  native  country — the  story  of  his  Scottish 
Queen,  Mary  Stuart,  and  how  her  favorite  musi- 
cian was  cruelly  murdered  because  it  was  said 
that  he  was  in  love  with  the  Queen. 
Hackett  had  made  a  good  revolutionist  in  his 


24  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

own  country,  and  he  was  quick  to  lend  his  sym- 
pathies and  fight  for  the  cause  of  the  Bepubli- 
cans.  He  had  given  good  service  with  Colonel 
Perry's  men  in  the  downfall  of  the  Eoyalist 
party,  and  stood  ready  at  all  times  to  serve  the 
people  he  had  come  to  love  so  deeply.  He  loved 
Norveta,  and  her  people  and  their  cause  was  his, 
and  until  peace  reigned  over  the  town,  and  the 
troops  were  strong  enough,  without  the  citizens, 
to  hold  the  King's  army  at  bay,  he  fought  with 
them,  using  his  strength,  courage,  and  stratagem 
to  aid  them.  Many  times  he  went  to  the  old 
house  on  the  hill  to  keep  watch  that  no  harm 
should  befall  its  inmates  during  the  insur- 
rection. 


CHAPTER   IV 

The  old  Franciscan  mission  was  looking  calm 
and  peaceful  beneath  the  slanting  rays  of  the 
setting  sun.  Within  the  church  the  priest  was 
hearing  confession,  and  the  people  on  coming 
out  went  away  singly  and  in  groups.  From 
among  the  grasses  came  the  sonorous  song  of 
insect  life,  and  the  evening  breeze,  laden  with 
sweet  odors,  was  cool  and  refreshing.  From  a 
branch  of  one  of  the  big  live-oaks  that  gave 
shelter  from  the  noontide  sun  could  be  heard  the 
song  of  the  mocking-bird,  as  it  warbled  its  rich- 
est melodies,  then  the  cacita's  jarring,  sonorous 
song  held  sway.  There  was  a  solemn  stillness 
about  the  place,  a  peaceful  quietude  that  vi- 
brated with  the  faintest  sound,  save  which  all 
about  the  mission  was  quietness  and  repose. 

A  woman  came  out  of  the  church  and  walked 
slowly  away;  she  had  but  just  left  the  confes- 
sional, and  upon  her  young  face  still  shone  the 
light  of  sacred  fires.  As  she  walked  she  moved 
with  that  gliding,  graceful  motion  peculiar  to 
Spanish  women  of  the  higher  class.  She  wore 
a  dress  of  some  sort  of  sheer,  cool  muslin,  with 
large  floral  design,  made  with  the  pointed  bod- 
ice and  wide  skirt  peculiar  to  that  age  and  time, 
and  on  her  head  she  wore  a  black  lace  mantilla 
which  fell  in  graceful  folds  about  her  shoulders. 


26  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

The  shadowy  curtain  of  semi-twilight  was 
slowly  falling  over  the  town  as  she  turned  away 
to  the  street  leading  from  the  mission  to  the 
resident  portion  of  the  town.  Coming  up  from 
the  presidio  was  the  sound  of  an  occasional 
stray  note  from  a  cavalry  bugle.  A  whippoor- 
will  flew  past,  the  buzz  of  his  long  wings  cutting 
the  air  with  the  sudden  curvatures  of  his  swift 
flight.  She  was  walking  with  a  quickened  pace, 
when  suddenly  her  progress  was  impeded  by  the 
appearance  of  a  man  who  stepped  from  beneath 
the  shadow  of  a  live-oak  tree  and  stood  directly 
in  her  pathway. 

"Dona  Arguella  should  not  be  walking  the 
streets  unattended;  it  is  not  safe  for  you  while 
your  father's  enemies  hold  the  town,"  he  said. 
There  was  a  soft,  gentle  note  in  the  man's  voice, 
despite  his  keen  anxiety  for  her  safety. 

"Axtel  Xamino  is  no  friend  to  the  house  of 
Arguella,  then  why  should  he  concern  himself 
about  the  daughter  of  Don  Arguella  1"  replied 
the  surprised  woman,  as  she  drew  back  from  him 
with  a  haughty  mien. 

"Quien  sabe,  senorita!  When  the  heart  is 
hungry  for  the  safety  of  its  most  deeply  loved 
object  it  is  an  easy  task  for  the  feet  to  follow 
eagerly  to  the  place  where  one's  thoughts  al- 
ways lead. ' ' 

i '  But  your  revolutionary  dogs  snarl  and  growl 
when  they  are  held  in  leash,  until  their  teeth  are 
at  the  throat  of  the  King's  loyal  subjects." 

"Tsa !    In  these  days  when  it  is  touch  and  go 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  27 

for  a  man's  life,  and  the  cruelty  of  either  side 
cannot  excel  that  of  the  other,  is  it  any  time, 
dona,  to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  a  friendly  warning  ? ' ' 
He  had  come  closer  to  her,  so  close  that  he  could 
catch  the  fresh,  sweet  odor  of  her  garments. 

"Lex-non-seripta  rules  the  day,  senorita; 
won't  you  be  kind  to  Xamino!  Just  a  word  to 
warm  his  heart,  so  long  has  he  waited  for  the 
sight  of  you  or  the  touch  of  your  hand." 

She  moved  restlessly,  melted  from  her  cold 
mood  by  the  vehemence  of  his  ardent  nature. 
He  slipped  his  arm  about  her  and  his  small 
brown  hand  sought  hers.  He  drew  her  close 
under  the  shade  of  the  aloes,  and  walked  with 
her  the  rest  of  the  way  to  her  home,  passionate 
words  of  love  falling-  from  his  lips  as  they 
walked  slowly  along  beneath  the  shade  of  the 
trees.  The  girl  had  sought  by  her  very  coldness 
to  shield  him  from  any  harm  that  might  befall 
him  should  he  be  caught  in  the  company  of  a 
member  of  the  family  of  old  Don  Arguella  the 
Eoyalist.  Neither  would  it  be  safe  for  her,  had 
it  been  known  to  her  father,  that  her  love  had 
already  been  given,  and  not  to  the  handsome 
Spanish  don  he  had  chosen  for  her  future  hus- 
band. The  home  of  the  Arguellas  had  been  left 
unmolested  upon  the  downfall  of  the  Royalists, 
much  to  the  surprise  of  even  the  inmates  them- 
selves. Old  Don  Arguella  had  been  driven  with 
his  men  into  the  fastnesses  of  the  mountains,  and 
he  knew  not  how  it  had  fared  with  his  loved  ones 
at  home.  It  was  Axtel  Xamino,  the  Mexican 


28  LA    BELLE    SAN   ANTONE 

spy,  who  finally  succeeded  in  getting  news  to 
him,  in  his  hiding  place  among  the  mountains, 
of  the  safety  of  his  home  and  family.  And  it 
was  Xamino  who  controlled  the  bloodhounds  of 
Gutierrez  and  made  them  hold  back  the  hand 
of  destruction  from  the  Arguella  home.  Xam- 
ino was  held  in  high  esteem  among  the  Mexican 
military  camps,  for  it  had  been  conceded  by  the 
Mexican  officers — who  alone  knew  him  as  a 
spy — that  no  man  could  pass  through  the  Span- 
ish lines  and  accomplish  such  good  for  the  strug- 
gling Republic  as  could  the  steely  and  withy 
Xamino.  Carmen  Arguella,  alone  of  all  the  Roy- 
alists,  knew  him  to  be  a  spy  for  the  Mexican 
army.  His  many  humane  acts  in  protecting  the 
women  and  children  and  the  old  and  enfeebled 
men  of  the  town  from  the  hand  of  vandalism 
when  the  Mexican  troops  held  the  presidio  had 
made  him  a  favorite  in  many  homes  of  the 
wealthy  Royalists. 

Back  from  the  main  part  of  the  town,  on  one 
of  the  quiet  streets,  stood  the  home  of  Don  An- 
tone  Arguella — a  large  adobe,  with  flaring  ver- 
andas with  long  fluted  pillars  reaching  to  the 
windows  of  the  bedrooms  above.  Through  the 
grillwork  of  the  iron  gateway  you  could  see  the 
tiny  court  within,  filled  with  palms,  plants,  and 
vines  that  clambered  about  the  tall  white  pil- 
lars. A  thick  growth  of  maple  and  oak  shaded 
the  spacious  grounds,  for  this  was  the  home  of 
one  of  the  richest  Spanish  dons  of  the  town. 
One  would  have  been  charmed  with  the  beauty 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  29 

of  the  place,  as  through  many  carved  stone  door- 
ways one  caught  sunny  glimpses  of  the  flowered 
courtyard,  reminiscent  of  the  sunny  homes  of 
Spain.  It  stood  well  out  from  the  Plaza-de-las- 
Yslas,  and  was  placed  in  the  center  of  beautiful, 
natural  grounds  from  whence  one  could  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  bosom  of  the  river,  which  flowed 
on  peacefully  despite  the  terrific  struggles  wit- 
nessed by  its  namesake — the  oft-beleaguered 
town. 

When  the  master  of  the  house  was  in  favor 
with  the  ruling  Governor,  and  his  own  party 
held  the  town,  his  home  was  often  the  scene  of 
great  social  gaiety.  Climbing  up  the  tall  white 
pillars  of  the  veranda  grew  the  Castilian  rose, 
full  fluted,  and  full  of  the  sweetest  fragrance. 
The  arched  doorway  of  stone  gave  entrance  to 
a  long  sala,  typical  of  that  day.  White  walls 
covered  with  emblems  of  the  Catholic  faith,  cool 
mattings,  deep  window  seats,  a  wide  hall  with 
tiled  flooring,  and  stiff,  uncompromising  horse- 
hair furniture  characterized  the  interior  of  the 
Arguella  home ;  but  to-day  it  is  closed,  the  shut- 
ters are  fastened  and  the  curtains  drawn,  for  the 
political  enemy  of  the  masters  of  the  house  holds 
the  town. 

Carmen  Arguella  had  the  ardent  nature  of  the 
high-born  Spanish  women.  Her  mother  was  a 
Morraga — the  best  blood  of  old  Spain — and  her 
father  had  risen  to  his  present  position  by  the 
hand  of  the  King,  whom  he  had  always  defended 
and  to  whom  he  had  ever  been  loyal.  They  were 


30  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

of  pure  Spanish  blood,  and  none  of  the  blood  of 
the  Canary  Islanders  ran  in  their  veins. 

Though  the  war-dogs  were  loosed,  yet  life  in 
the  narrow,  winding  streets  seemed  much  the 
same  to  the  onlooker ;  cock-fights  were  the  sport 
of  the  idle;  and  in  the  market  place  the  peons 
offered  their  fruit  and  vegetables  with  a  quiet 
indifference  to  everything  save  their  sales.  In 
the  evenings  there  were  places  of  amusement, 
and  the  fandango  was  danced  by  the  swarthy 
men  and  the  black-browed  senoritas  with  as 
light  a  step  as  if  there  were  no  bitter  feudal  feel- 
ing running  riot  in  the  town.  The  dulces  and 
wines  were  lavishly  enjoyed,  and  the  senoritas 
flirted  with  the  officers  from  the  presidio  and 
laughed  at  them  from  behind  their  big  fans  as 
though  they  were  far  removed  from  all  danger 
or  peril.  So  long  had  the  town  been  the  scene 
of  strife,  turmoil,  and  bloodshed  that  the  people 
had  ceased  to  take  the  heaviness  of  it  upon  their 
hearts,  save  those  who,  like  old  Emanuella  Men- 
doza,  had  lost  all  the  light  from  their  homes  and 
hearts. 


CHAPTER  V 

There  was  a  road  which  ran  out  of  the  city  to 
the  west,  the  favorite  highway  of  the  people. 
Throngs  of  black-haired  men,  gay  handkerchiefs 
tied  about  their  heads  and  wearing  flat-brimmed 
sombreros,  mounted  on  their  fiery  mustangs  and 
heavily  armed,  pass  this  way  to-day.  Following 
the  Mexican  troops  come  the  American  soldiers 
under  the  leadership  of  Colonel  Perry.  The 
man  riding  the  spirited  gelding  in  the  outer  file 
of  soldiers,  among  the  Americans,  is  our  old 
friend,  Theodore  Hackett.  His  riata  hangs  idle 
by  the  gateway  of  his  corral  out  at  his  cattle 
ranch,  and  the  beeves  are  left  to  be  looked  after 
by  his  peons,  while  once  again  he  puts  forth  his 
hand  to  help  the  struggling  young  republic. 
Among  the  women  and  children  who  have  gath- 
ered along  the  way  where  the  soldiers  are  passing 
is  the  strained  and  anxious  face  of  Norveta  Men- 
doza,  watching  for  the  one  face  that  fills  life, 
earth,  and  heaven  for  her.  Carlos  Decasto,  the 
young  Mexican  who  has  loved  her  from  the  days 
of  her  infancy,  flushed  a  dull  red  beneath  his 
dark  skin  as  he  saw  her  among  the  watchers 
while  the  soldiers  rode  by,  for  he  thought  she 
had  forgotten  and  forgiven  their  last  quarrel 
and  was  there  to  look  for  him. 

' i  Ah ! "    Her  breath  is  drawn  inward  as  she  at 


32  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

last  catches  sight  of  Hackett  *s  fine  face  with  its 
piercing  gray  eyes,  shaded  by  the  wide  brim  of 
his  low,  flat  sombrero.  His  brown  locks,  worn 
long  after  the  fashion  of  the  day,  were  blown 
back  from  his  face  and  neck  by  the  lifting 
breeze.  His  muscular,  well-knit  form  showed  to 
good  advantage  in  his  doeskin  doublet;  his 
trunks  of  dark  brown  cloth  passed  over  his 
knees  and  met  the  leathern  gaiters  that  encased 
his  lower  limbs.  He  sat  his  saddle  with  that 
peculiar  grace  and  ease  seen  only  among  the 
men  of  the  plains.  He  lifted  his  hand  to  Nor- 
veta  in  mute  farewell  as  he  passed  her,  his  face 
soft  and  radiant  with  the  light  of  love,  then  dig- 
ging the  big  rowel  of  his  spurs  into  his  horse's 
side,  he  moved  on  with  the  rank  and  file  that  was 
marching  out  in  a  vast  body  to  the  heights  of 
.lazon,  one  mile  west  of  the  town,  to  meet  the 
Spanish  forces  of  fifteen  hundred  men  gathered 
there  under  the  leadership  of  General  Elisondo 
to  fight  once  again  for  the  possession  of  the  pre- 
sidio and  the  coveted  town. 

It  was  on  a  June  day,  three  years  after  the 
Republicans  had  taken  the  town,  that  this  battle 
was  fought.  The  contending  forces  met  on  the 
heights  of  Alazon,  and  the  glittering  uniforms  of 
the  Spanish  officers  looked  picturesque  in  the 
bright  light  of  the  sun,  as  they  and  the  soldiers 
under  their  command  moved  eagerly  across  the 
green,  undulating  prairie  to  meet  their  hated 
foe. 

The  officers  of  the  Mexican  troops  and  their 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  33 

attendants  wore  uniforms,  but  the  great  mass  of 
the  Kepublican  troops  were  dressed  in  their 
civilian  clothes — the  main  consideration  with 
them  was  their  fighting  capacity  and  how  many 
of  the  hated  King's  subjects  they  could  kill. 
They  were  fighting  to  free  themselves,  their 
homes  and  their  children  from  the  tyranny  of 
the  despotic  rule  of  Spain.  It  was  a  desperate 
battle,  each  side  fighting  with  dogged  determina- 
tion for  the  victory.  The  foremost  ranks  of  each 
army  melted  away  and  others  moved  up  to  take 
their  place.  The  terrific  clash  of  the  sabers  could 
be  heard  far  from  the  battlefield  as  the  two 
armies  closed  in  a  hand-to-hand  struggle.  After 
a  twenty-minutes  engagement  the  Spanish  lines 
began  to  weaken  and  give  way.  The  Mexican 
troops  saw  their  advantage  and  pressed  them 
still  harder.  Colonel  Perry  rode  down  the  lines 
on  his  black  stallion,  holding  his  saber  aloft  and 
cheering  his  men  onward,  who  were  already 
fighting  like  demons. 

It  was  said,  after  the  firing  had  ceased  and  the 
Spanish  had  been  put  to  flight,  that  it  was  the 
fool-hardy  Americans  who  rushed  in  and  saved 
the  day.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  Spanish  forces 
had  carried  their  great  General — Elisando — 
seriously  wounded  from  the  field  of  battle ;  the 
Eevolutionists  still  held  the  town,  and  were 
greeted  with  glad  cries  of  welcome  when  they 
returned  to  their  homes.  But  their  joy  was  of 
short  duration,  for  it  was  just  two  months  later, 
fresh  troops  having  been  furnished  the  Boyal- 


34  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

ists,  that  the  famous  Spanish  general,  the  Mar- 
quis of  Arredondo,  marched  with  a  new  army  of 
two  thousand  soldiers  to  meet  the  Republicans 
commanded  by  Taledo  and  Perry,  whose  forces 
were  not  so  strong.  The  two  armies  met  near 
San  Antonio,  on  the  bank  of  the  Medina  River. 
After  a  furious  contest  the  Republican  forces 
were  defeated  with  frightful  carnage.  Few  men 
in  the  Mexican  ranks  escaped  without  receiving 
wounds,  and  most  of  them  perished,  their  life- 
blood  staining  the  waters  of  the  Medina,  on 
whose  banks  their  bones  were  left  to  bleach 
through  the  passing  of  the  ages. 

General  Arredondo  immediately  entered  the 
city  with  his  triumphant  army  and  proceeded  to 
make  most  cruel  exactions  and  bloody  reprisals 
upon  the  patriotic  population.  Private  property 
was  confiscated  and  taken  for  the  crown  in  lieu 
of  the  expenses  the  King's  army  had  incurred, 
in  order  to  suppress  the  insurrection.  All  the 
male  members  of  Delgado's  family  were  con- 
demned and  shot  for  treason  to  the  crown,  not 
sparing  even  a  boy  of  nine  years.  Six  hundred 
prisoners  were  crowded  into  narrow  and  un- 
wholesome prisons  where  many  died  through 
suffocation. 

The  home  of  our  old  friend  Senora  Mendoza 
was  confiscated  for  the  crown,  and  she  and  her 
daughter  Norveta  were  imprisoned  in  the  dread- 
ed Quinta  along  with  hundreds  of  other  women 
of  the  best  families,  and  compelled  to  grind  corn 
for  Arredondo 's  army.  Though  captive,  yet  the 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  35 

old  senora  Js  fiery  nature  was  not  conquered,  and 
her  hate  burned  like  a  deep,  smouldering  fire. 
The  younger  women  relieved  the  older  ones  of 
the  hard  work  as  much  as  they  could.  Norveta 
watched  over  her  mother  like  a  falcon  watching 
over  its  brood.  She  never  tired,  lest  if  she  fell 
asleep  the  dear  old  sorrow-scarred  face  might 
be  gone  when  she  awakened,  for  each  day  the  old 
women  who  were  too  feeble  to  help  grind  the 
corn  were  taken  out  by  the  soldiers,  and  rumors 
had  crept  back  into  the  Quinta  that  they  were 
taken  away  and  shot  for  abetting  treason.  This 
was  the  horror  that  kept  Norveta  7s  vigilance 
ever  wakeful ;  and  always  she  watched  and  hoped 
for  some  token  from  Hackett,  but  none  came, 
for  he  had  received  a  desperate  wound  in  the 
last  battle,  and  he,  with  two  other  wounded 
Mexican  soldiers,  was  being  cared  for  by  the 
Mexican  spy,  Axtel  Xamino,  in  an  old  dug-out 
near  the  banks  of  the  river. 

One  day  there  came  one  of  the  handsome 
Spanish  officers  to  the  Quinta,  "To  look,"  he 
said,  "at  the  pretty  girls  grinding  corn  for  his 
army."  He  had  passed  from  group  to  group, 
chatting  merrily  to  them  in  his  soft,  musical 
tongue,  giving  an  occasional  playful  stroke  at 
the  dusky  red  cheek  of  some  pretty  senorita,  un- 
til at  last  he  reached  the  place  where  Norveta 
and  her  mother  were  sitting  upon  the  edge  of  one 
of  the  large  stones  used  in  grinding  corn.  The 
young  officer  paused,  bending  his  graceful  form 
clad  in  its  gay  uniform  that  he  might  the  better 


36  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

study  the  witching  beauty  of  the  dusky  maiden. 
Norveta  was  tired  and  worn,  but  she  smiled  up 
at  him  through  her  long  black  silken  lashes. 
There  was  a  playful  pout  on  her  red  curving  lips 
as  the  bold  officer's  ardent  gaze  burned  itself 
into  her  terrified  soul.  With  a  luring  smile  she 
lifted  her  arm  to  cover  her  face,  as  though  play- 
fully warding  off  the  intense  fervor  of  his  gaze. 
He  caught  her  arm  and  removed  it  that  he  might 
look  into  her  eyes,  while  in  softened  tones  he 
said:  "Nay,  senorita,  do  not  hide  your  face 
from  me;  it  is  the  most  beautiful  in  the  world. 
Don 't  you  want  to  leave  this  dreadful  place  and 
come  to  live  with  me  I  I  might  learn  to  like  you 
a  great  deal  and  take  you  to  Spain  with  me  when 
I  return.  Come,  what  do  you  say ! ' ' 

The  flush  of  shame  dyed  Norveta 's  cheek  with 
a  dull  red  glow.  She  looked  at  her  mother, 
whose  withered  lips  were  parted  with  a  snarl 
that  showed  her  worn  brown  teeth,  like  an  ani- 
mal baring  them  for  the  attack.  Norveta  slyly 
pressed  her  foot  against  her  mother's  as  a  sign 
to  be  silent,  while  she  turned  her  face,  smiling 
upon  the  officer.  He  looked  at  the  figure  by  her 
side  as  he  questioned,  "What  is  the  old  woman 
to  you?"  Norveta  regarded  him  earnestly,  as 
fear  tugged  at  her  heart,  and  replied,  "She  is 
my  mother;  we  were  living  together,  just  she 
and  I,  when  your  army  took  the  town,  then  our 
home  was  confiscated,  and  we  were  driven  in 
here  with  the  rest  of  them  to  grind  corn  for  your 
army. ' ' 


LA   BELLE    SAN   ANTONE  37 

"If  you  will  come,  you  may  bring  her  with 
you.  Is  that  not  fair,  little  one?"  he  said, 
stroking  her  playfully  under  the  chin.  Norveta 
recoiled  at  his  touch  as  though  stung  by  the  bite 
of  a  serpent.  Still  the  officer  persisted.  ' '  Come, 
and  you  shall  go  back  to  your  home ;  this  night 
shall  you  sleep  under  your  own  roof,  and  your 
home  shall  be  restored  to  you  if  you  will  agree 
to  all  I  ask  of  you  and  let  me  come  to  see  you 
there. ' ' 

* i  Now !  To  go  out  of  this  hated  place,  as  you 
go,  senor,  and  back  to  our  home  ? ' ' 

' '  This  very  hour.  I  will  conduct  you  myself. 
Come!"  And  he  held  out  his  hand  for  her  and 
she  followed,  pulling  at  the  old  woman's  skirts 
that  she  might  come  too. 

And  so  Norveta  and  her  mother  passed  out  of 
the  dreaded  Quinta  and  entered  into  the  free 
light  of  the  day  after  a  two-weeks  imprisonment 
during  the  hot  August  weather.  She  had  all  of 
the  Mexican's  subtlety  and  elasticity  of  nature, 
and  hoped  that  some  opportunity  might  present 
itself  for  her  to  slay  her  unprincipled  foe  ere  he 
succeeded  in  harming  her,  and  it  was  this  hope 
that  had  led  her  on  to  dare  anything  to  secure 
their  freedom,  for  she  well  knew  her  mother 
could  endure  only  a  few  days  more  of  imprison- 
ment. Already  she  was  gaunt  and  hollow-eyed 
and  showed  signs  of  exhaustion. 

Out  of  the  unbarred  gate  of  the  hated  Quinta 
walked  Norveta,  her  mother  by  her  side  and  the 
Spanish  officer  just  a  little  in  advance  of  them, 


38  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

and  back  to  the  old  house  on  the  hill,  that  had 
been  suddenly  vacated  for  its  rightful  owners. 
Neither  of  the  women  took  any  notice  of  their 
little  household  gods  that  had  been  destroyed 
during  their  absence,  for  things  of  far  greater 
moment  were  facing  them,  which  meant  life  or 
death.  It  was  a  situation  in  which  all  smaller 
things  paled  into  insignificance.  With  trembling 
fingers  and  swift-moving  feet  Norveta  moved 
about  the  rooms,  gathering  different  articles 
into  a  small  bundle.  When  she  had  finished,  in 
company  with  her  mother,  she  stole  softly  out  of 
the  back  door,  past  the  drunken  sleeping  guard, 
past  the  shade  of  the  palmettos  beside  the  well, 
and  on  through  the  old  garden  to  the  opening  in 
the  wall.  The  fer-de-lance  could  creep  no  more 
noiselessly  than  these  two  as  they  moved  along 
like  dim  shadows  under  the  aloes. 

Down  the  hillside  they  crept,  keeping  always 
in  the  shadow  and  making  their  way  toward  the 
river.  Once  outside  the  city  they  moved  more 
swiftly.  Just  for  a  moment  did  Norveta ys  splen- 
did courage  seem  almost  to  forsake  her,  as  she 
heard  the  far-off  sound  of  the  bugle  call  at  the 
presidio  sounding  "taps,"  for  it  was  at  that 
exact  hour  that  the  Spanish  officer  was  to  come 
to  the  old  house  on  the  hill  to  see  her,  for  she 
had  promised  him  to  be  awaiting  him  then.  She 
shook  off  the  tremor  of  fear  the  moment  it  came, 
and  pressed  forward  past  the  old  scarred  walls 
of  the  mission  and  on  toward  the  river.  At  last 


LA    BELLE    SAN   ANTONB  39 

they  came  to  a  halt  as  they  neared  the  mud  hut 
of  an  old  Indian  living  beside  the  river. 

This  Indian  was  of  the  San  Jacinto  tribe  and 
had  been  a  good  friend  to  Jose  Mendoza,  the 
girl's  father,  in  years  gone  by.  Mendoza  had 
saved  his  life  once,  and  the  old  Indian  trapper 
had  never  forgotten  to  find  his  way,  with  gifts  of 
wild  meats  as  his  offerings  of  friendship,  to  his 
friends  living  in  the  old  adobe  among  the  big 
trees  upon  the  hill.  As  soon  as  they  reached  the 
wigwam  Norveta  asked  the  aid  of  the  old  Indian 
to  take  her  and  her  mother  to  some  safe  hiding 
place,  where  her  enemy  could  not  reach  her,  un- 
til she  could  hear  from  Hackett.  The  girl's  heart 
told  her  that  if  he  still  lived  she  would  receive 
word  from  him. 

"Big  Wolf  no  let  fightiu'  man  hurt  white 
maiden;  me  take  you  and  old  squaw  in  canoe 
down  river  to  safe  place, ' '  said  the  old  man. 

The  girl's  heart  leaped  with  joy  at  the  pros- 
pect of  deliverance  from  her  threatened  danger. 
She  thanked  Big  Wolf  in  his  own  tongue,  for  she 
spoke  the  Indian's  language  with  ease.  She 
slipped  a  small  crucifix  into  his  hand,  and  with 
her  little  bundle  of  personal  belongings  for  her- 
self and  her  mother  prepared  to  enter  the  ca- 
noe in  which  the  Indian  was  to  take  them.  Big 
Wolf  kissed  the  little  crucifix  Norveta  had  given 
him  and  then  secured  it  to  the  collar  of  elk's 
teeth  he  wore  about  his  neck.  He  made  the  sign 
of  the  cross  as  he  dropped  upon  one  knee  before 
the  maiden,  then  rising,  he  moved  rapidly  to- 


40  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

ward  his  canoe,  followed  by  the  two  women,  and 
soon  the  little  craft  was  gliding  swiftly  down 
the  river.  It  had  been  Norveta  who  had  given 
Big  Wolf  his  instructions  in  the  catechism,  and 
it  had  been  Norveta  who  had  walked  with  him  to 
the  old  mission  and  stood  as  god-mother  for  him 
when  the  good  padre  had  baptized  him  a  Cath- 
olic and  received  him  into  the  arms  of  the  old 
Mother  Church,  and  to  Big  Wolf  the  white 
maiden  seemed  a  part  of  the  " Great  Spirit/' 
and  no  man  could  harm  her  or  her  mother  while 
they  were  under  his  care. 

Hardly  had  Big  Wolf's  canoe  shot  up  the  river 
when  another  moved  noiselessly  to  the  brink, 
where  but  a  few  moments  ago  Big  Wolf  and  his 
companions  had  stood.  A  small,  lithe  form 
sprang  from  the  skiff,  tethered  it  to  the  trunk  of 
a  tree,  and  went  up  the  bank  toward  the  old  In- 
dian's hut.  Finding  no  sign  or  trace  of  its  in- 
habitant the  man  came  out,  and  presently  the 
screech  of  a  night  owl  echoed  through  the  woods 
along  the  river.  It  fell  upon  Big  Wolf's  keenly 
trained  ear  as  he  was  sweeping  his  oars  through 
the  waters  of  the  river  far  above  the  old  In- 
dian's hut.  He  could  not  answer  back  lest  he 
betray  the  women  under  his  charge.  He  knew 
the  call  and  who  had  given  it ;  he  also  knew  that 
they  would  look  for  the  ' '  sign ' '  when  no  answer 
came  to  the  call,  and  would  find  the  rock  turned 
down,  which  meant  that  the  owner  of  the  hut  had 
gone  in  his  canoe  far  up  the  river. 

A  half -strangled  oath  escaped  from  the  man 


LA   BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  41 

when  he  found  the  hut  vacated  and  the  old  In- 
dian gone.  It  was  Xamino,  and  he  had  work  for 
the  old  Indian  to  do.  Seeing  the  fruitlessness  of 
waiting,  Xamino  sprang  into  his  skiff  as  he 
shoved  it  out  from  the  shore.  He  was  overdue 
already  at  the  old  dug-out  where  Hackett, 
wounded  and  spent,  lay  waiting  for  him.  His 
skiff  swept  the  face  of  the  waters,  swift  as  the 
wing  of  a  swallow.  He  had  almost  lost  his  life 
trying  to  make  his  way  through  the  Spanish 
lines  to  secure  medical  aid  for  his  wounded 
friend,  and  he  decided  to  delay  no  longer,  but 
hasten  with  the  much-needed  medicine  back  to 
the  dug-out  and  see  the  old  Indian  at  another 
time.  He  had  inquired  for  Hackett 's  friends, 
the  old  senora  and  her  daughter,  and  had 
learned  that  they  were  among  the  unfortunate 
women  of  the  Quinta.  He  had  heard  nothing  of 
their  deliverance  by  the  infatuated  Spaniard, 
and  had  nothing  cheerful  to  relate  to  his  friend. 
This  fact  bore  upon  him,  and  fully  absorbed  with 
his  own  thoughts,  he  was  sweeping  past  the  old 
Indian  trapper  and  his  canoe  when  suddenly  the 
dip  of  the  Indian's  oar  fell  upon  his  ear.  Turn- 
ing quickly  around  he  spied  the  canoe  as  it  was 
closely  hugging  the  bank.  His  skiff  was  soon  di- 
rected in  the  same  direction,  and  as  it  neared  the 
cover  of  the  trees  the  screech  of  the  night-owl 
once  again  rang  out  on  the  stillness  of  the  night. 
This  time  it  was  answered  by  the  distinct  but 
low  call  of  the  whippoorwill.  Instantly  the  ca- 
noe of  the  Mexican  spy  was  alongside  that  of  the 


42  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

old  Indian  trapper.  Big  Wolf  was  terribly  ex- 
cited and  began  trying  to  tell  Xamino,  in  the 
Indian  tongue,  who  his  passengers  were,  and  of 
their  escape  from  the  Quinta.  He  sat  more  erect 
and  took  a  firmer  hold  upon  his  oars  as  he  re- 
alized anew  the  grave  responsibility  which  rest- 
ed upon  him,  emitting  a  series  of  grunts  which 
he  intended  to  give  added  strength  to  his  words. 

"Big  Wolf  honest  Injun;  friend  old  squaw 
and  little  maiden.  Me  take  um, — me  take  up 
'way;  white  man  no  fin'  'em!M 

"Yes,  I  know  you  are  a  good  Injun,  Big  Wolf, 
and  you  were  a  big  brave  to  help  these  poor 
women  in  their  great  distress,  but  I  know  where 
their  friend  is,  and  he  is  wounded  and  not  able 
to  come  for  them.  We  must  push  on  and  find 
Pedro,  the  old  Mexican  who  lives  across  the 
river  from  the  ferry.  We  can  get  a  couple  of 
burros  from  him  for  the  women  to  ride,  we  leave 
our  boats  in  his  care,  and  make  our  way  to  the 
Medina.  We  can  go  by  the  old  Indian  trail,  to 
protect  the  senorita  and  her  mother  from  any- 
one that  might  be  on  the  lookout  for  them  along 
the  main  road. 

The  Mexican  had  explained  his  plans  to  Big 
Wolf  in  a  mixed  jargon  of  Indian  and  Mexican, 
but  it  had  all  been  intelligible  to  the  two  women 
who  sat  silent  in  the  boat,  listening.  Norveta's 
heart  kept  singing  its  song  in  the  darkness,  while 
the  Mexican  and  Indian  were  laying  plans  for 
their  escape.  ' 1 1  knew  it !  I  knew  if  he  lived  I 
would  find  him ! ' '  Aloud,  she  said :  '  *  Senor,  we 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  43 

will  go  with  you,  and  Big  Wolf  will  do  as  you 
say,  but  let  us  not  tarry  here  so  long."  She 
spoke  to  the  Indian  in  his  own  language  and 
made  known  to  him  her  wish  to  go  in  search  of 
her  wounded  friend.  Peaceably  and  quietly  Big 
Wolf  turned  his  boat  and  followed  that  of  the 
Mexican's.  If  it  was  all  right  with  the  white 
maiden  and  she  was  willing  to  go,  Big  Wolf  was 
willing  too,  giving  his  sanction  in  a  series  of 
unintelligible  grunts. 

The  strong  brown  arms  of  the  Indian  plied  his 
oars  with  a  sweeping  stroke  that  carried  his  ca- 
noe swiftly  over  the  water,  closely  followed  by 
that  of  the  Mexican.  It  was  near  midnight  when 
the  two  boats  drifted  along  under  the  shadow  of 
the  cypress  trees  by  the  water 's  edge,  and  again 
the  cry  of  the  night-owl  was  heard.  Soon  the 
call  was  answered  by  the  appearance  of  a  shad- 
ow creeping  along  the  river  bank.  It  was 
Pedro,  an  old  Mexican. 

' 'Hist ! ' '  cried  Xamino, ' i we  are  refugees  from 
San  Antonio,  the  Quinta,  and  Aradondo's  blood- 
letting dogs.  We  must  have  mules  to  carry  the 
women  to  a  safe  hiding-place  before  the  sun 
rises."  He  had  pulled  his  boat  close  alongside 
the  bank,  and  spoke  in  guarded  tones  to  the  old 
Mexican,  who  bent  low  to  catch  his  every  word, 
his  fingers  tightly  grasping  a  huge  grapevine 
which  grew  about  the  trees  that  shadowed  their 
trysting  place. 

"Is  it  Xamino,  the  Mexican  spy,  who  comes 
for  aid!"  asked  the  old  man. 


44  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

"It  is  Xamino  and  his  Indian  guide,  Big 
Wolf,  who  are  taking  these  women  to  a  safe 
place  where  they  can  escape  Aradondo  and  his 
butchers.  Since  the  fall  of  the  republic  at  the 
battle  of  the  Medina,  they  have  been  prisoners 
in  the  Quinta  with  the  other  women  who  are 
made  to  grind  corn  for  Aradondo,  his  officers 
and  his  army.  By  the  Madonna's  help  the  sen- 
orita  escaped,  bringing  her  mother  with  her, 
and  we  must  not  let  them  be  recaptured.  The 
blood  of  a  Mendoza  should  be  sacred  to  those 
who  love  and  fight  for  the  republic. " 

"Tsa!  Baptiste  Mendoza,  his  father  and 
brother — how  well  I  remember  the  three  of  them, 
all  laid  in  their  graves  in  one  day.  May  their 
blood  be  on  the  head  of  every  Spanish  dog  whose 
footsteps  lead  their  hungry,  wolfish  horde  upon 
the  sacred  soil  of  the  old  town.  All  I  have  is 
yours,  and  command  old  Pedro,  if  in  any  way 
he  can  help  the  cause  of  the  Eevolution  or  be- 
friend one  in  whose  veins  runs  the  blood  of  a 
Mendoza ! ' ' 

The  old  man  moved  back  a  pace  as  he  ceased 
speaking,  and  stood  with  bowed  head  as  the 
two  women  passed  before  him,  each  one  resting 
her  hand  lightly  upon  the  old,  bowed,  grizzled 
head,  as  in  low  tones  they  murmured,  * '  May 
God's  greatest  blessing  rest  upon  you  and 
yours ! ' '  The  old  man  blessed  himself  before  he 
raised  his  head,  and  his  heart  was  filled  with 
emotion — a  feeling  as  though  something  sacred 
had  passed  by. 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  45 

Out  into  the  night,  under  the  star-studded  sky, 
moved  the  little  train — two  little  burros  bearing 
upon  their  backs  the  homeless,  persecuted,  and 
fleeing  women,  while  in  advance  walked  the  Big 
Wolf  and  Xamino.  No  wild  animal  of  the  forest 
ever  had  ears  more  keenly  attuned  for  the  faint- 
est sound  than  did  the  stalwart  Indian  who  led 
the  way  for  the  little  band,  moving  cautiously 
over  the  wide  prairie. 

Keen  as  was  the  outlook  kept  by  the  Indian,  it 
was  Xamino  who  was  the  first  to  detect  by  the 
sky-line  several  forms  moving  in  the  same  direc- 
tion as  that  taken  by  their  own  little  party.  With 
the  swift  movements  of  men  accustomed  to  the 
perils  of  the  plains,  Big  Wolf  and  the  spy  led 
their  charges  to  cover  in  a  low,  thick  growth  of 
chaparral  bushes,  screening  themselves  also, 
while  they  watched  the  movements  of  the  trav- 
elers, who  seemed  to  be  coming  closer  and  closer. 

With  bated  breath  the  watchers  behind  the 
chaparral  bush  waited  to  see  if  it  were  friends  or 
foes  who  were  approaching. 

The  travelers  neared  their  hiding  place  and 
passed  slowly  on  without  a  pause.  The  keen 
ears  of  the  Indian  and  the  spy  caught  fragments 
of  speech  as  they  passed  that  proved  to  them 
that  the  moving  figures  were  other  refugees 
fleeing  from  the  wrath  of  Aradondo,  while  their 
hearts  were  still  with  bleeding,  beloved  old  San 
Antonio. 

When  the  travelers  had  passed  on  for  some 
distance  Xamino  with  his  little  party  continued 


46  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

their  journey.  Meeting  with  no  more  hindrances 
they  arrived  at  their  destination  on  the  banks  of 
the  Medina  in  the  gray  of  the  early  morning. 
The  old  senora  was  greatly  exhausted  from  her 
night's  travel  and  her  many  days  of  privation 
while  a  prisoner  in  the  Quinta.  Blankets  were 
spread  in  one  corner  of  the  dug-out,  and  here 
she  found  a  comfortable  bed  upon  which  to  rest 
her  worn  and  weary  body.  Norveta  had  arrived 
at  their  destination  vigorous  and  beautiful,  re- 
freshed and  delighted  with  the  hope  of  once 
again  seeing  her  well-beloved  friend.  Hackett 
had  sat  all  night  by  the  door,  just  outside  the 
dug-out,  waiting  for  something  the  nature  of 
which  he  could  not  define.  His  wound  pained 
him,  and  the  fever  ran  riot  in  his  veins,  but  his 
intellect  was  keenly  attuned  as  one  will  some- 
times feel  when  about  to  experience  some  great 
event,  be  it  for  good  or  evil.  Across  his  lap  lay 
his  rifle;  and  more  than  once  through  the  night 
his  lips  had  babbled  of  his  boyhood  days,  of  Scot- 
land,  her  hills,  the  bloom  of  her  heather,  and  her 
rocks  and  rills. 

It  was  thus  that  his  friends  found  him  in  the 
early  dawn  as  he  sat  by  the  open  door  of  the  old 
dug-out,  his  eyes  bright  and  star-like  as  he 
looked  at  them  as  they  approached,  but  seeing 
them  only  as  objects  far  back  in  the  past.  In  his 
fevered  frenzy  he  mistook  Norveta  for  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots. 

"Behold!  Here  comes  the  beautiful  Scottish 
Queen!"  he  cried.  "Now,  let  Hackett  be  be- 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  47 

headed  and  all  will  go  well,  or  by  the  powers 
that  be  old  Scotia  will  never  bend  her  knee  be- 
fore a  tyrant 's  throne ! ' '  And  with  a  painful  ef- 
fort he  sought  to  reach  for  an  imagined  saber  as 
he  rose  to  his  feet,  while  Ms  rifle  lay  unnoticed 
upon  the  ground  where  it  had  fallen. 

Norveta's  heart  was  filled  with  foreboding 
as  she  noticed  the  flash  of  delirium  in  the  fine 
eyes  she  had  always  loved  so  well.  Xamino  was 
by  his  side  instantly,  and  with  soothing  touch 
and  gentle  words  he  soon  administered  a  heavy 
narcotic  which  locked  the  tired,  overworked 
brain  in  a  deep,  dreamless  sleep.  Big  Wolf  had 
watched  the  sufferer  until  his  eyes  closed  in 
sleep,  and  then  he  turned  away  toward  the 
woods  where  he  searched  for  hours  for  a  certain 
herb,  known  and  used  among  his  people.  He 
found  and  brought  back  with  him  the  coveted 
weed.  From  this  he  made  a  strong  tea,  and 
when  Hackett  roused  up  out  of  his  sleep  the  In- 
dian gave  it  to  him  to  drink.  All  through  the 
day  and  into  the  night  they  still  gave  him  the 
tea  made  from  the  herb,  and  when  the  morning 
light  broke  through  the  interstices  of  the  trees 
about  the  door  of  the  dug-out  on  the  second  day 
after  their  finding  him  delirious,  his  friends  re- 
joiced to  see  the  fever  broken.  Norveta  made 
soups,  nutritious  and  health-giving,  from  the 
wild  game  the  men  brought  in  from  the  hunt; 
she  broiled  venison  to  a  tender,  juicy  brown  and 
brought  it  to  him  to  eat;  and  from  her  small 
stores  she  conjured  her  brain  to  create  for  him 


48  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

such  food  as  would  bring  back  Ms  once  splendid 
physical  strength.  When  a  bowl  of  soup,  por- 
ridge, or  any  toothsome  dish  was  prepared  for 
Hackett,  the  same  was  also  prepared  for  her 
mother.  The  old  senora  soon  gained  renewed 
strength  after  a  few  days'  rest,  but  it  was  a 
serious  wound  that  had  laid  the  hardy  Scotch- 
man low,  and  it  was  some  time  before  he  was 
able  to  travel.  His  wound  had  suffered  for  lack 
of  proper  attention  during  the  first  days,  which 
had  caused  the  terrible  fever  that  had  left  him 
weak  and  spent. 

One  day,  when  he  was  feeling  much  improved, 
he  looked  up  into  Norveta's  face  as  she  was 
bending  over  him,  coaxing  him  to  take  a  morsel 
of  food  she  had  prepared  for  him,  and  said  to 
her,  with  a  smile  on  his  face:  "It  is  worth  the 
fall  of  the  republic,  and  all  I  have  suffered  from 
that  poisoned  bullet  of  the  Spanish  dogs,  to  be 
able  to  lie  here  and  have  your  little  hands  min- 
ister to  my  aches  and  pains.  I  think  I  shall  pro- 
crastinate a  little  longer.  I  hardly  think  I  desire 
to  get  well  all  at  once." 

The  girl's  face  flushed  deeply  and  her  dark 
eyes  shone  with  a  bright  light ;  her  soul  was  hap- 
py, for  she  knew  that  his  bantering  tone  meant 
that  he  would  soon  be  able  to  travel.  He  reached 
forth  his  hands  and  took  her  face  between  his 
palms,  and  there  was  a  husky  note  in  his  voice  as 
he  whispered  softly,  "You  will  come  with  me, 
won't  you,  Norveta,  and  be  my  little  wife,  out 
there  on  the  beautiful  prairies  where  a  world  of 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  49 

flowers  turn  their  sweet  faces  at  early  morn  to 
greet  the  sunrise!  And  the  senora,  she  will 
come  too,  won 't  she,  to  keep  my  little  wife  from 
growing  lonely  when  her  husband  is  away,  in 
search  of  his  cattle?  Will  you  come,  Norveta?" 
he  asked  again  in  soft,  pleading  tones. 

Norveta's  dark  head  bent  low,  and  her  red  lips 
pressed  a  kiss  upon  his,  and  this  was  their  be- 
trothal. With  all  the  ingenuity  their  fertile 
brains  could  command,  Xamino  and  Big  Wolf 
finally  succeeded  in  bringing  a  priest  who  joined 
them  in  the  holy  bonds  of  marriage,  after  which 
they  started  for  their  new  home,  far  to  the  west- 
ward, beyond  the  reach  of  the  tumult  in  the 
town. 


CHAPTER  VI 

While  Norveta  and  her  mother  were  making 
good  their  escape,  the  Spanish  officer,  Antone 
Cortez,  had  left  the  barracks,  humming  low  to 
himself  a  soft  love-tune,  well  pleased  with  the 
exquisite  curl  of  his  black  mustachios,  and  the 
neat  fit  of  his  gay,  elaborate  uniform.  The  slum- 
bering soul  in  Norveta 's  splendid  large  eyes, 
drooping  beneath  their  jetty  fringe,  had  awak- 
ened all  the  vehemence  of  his  passionate  nature, 
and  it  was  with  a  light  and  buoyant  step  and  a 
throbbing  heart  that  he  went  to  meet  her. 

The  old  heavy,  nail- studded  door  swung  upon 
its  hinges,  unlatched,  and  the  guards  he  had 
placed  to  watch  the  movements  of  his  victim 
dozed  beneath  the  palms  in  a  drunken  slumber. 
When  the  full  truth  dawned  upon  him  his  wrath 
was  suffocating.  Like  a  hissing  viper  he  sprang 
at  the  guards,  the  steel  blade  of  his  saber  gleam- 
ing in  the  moonlight. 

"Caramba !"  he  hissed,  his  lips  writhing  with 
hate  as  he  dealt  a  death-dealing  blow,  almost 
severing  the  head  of  one  of  the  guards  whose 
chin  rested  upon  his  breast  while  he  slept;  the 
other  he  pinioned  with  his  slender  blade,  twist- 
ing it  in  the  wound  as  he  watched  his  victim 
writhe.  At  last,  when  there  was  no  longer  a  liv- 
ing being  on  which  to  vent  his  wrath,  he  slunk 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  51 

away,  hacking  at  the  senseless  shrubs  and  trees 
in  his  demoniacal  fury,  his  late  love  for  the  beau- 
tiful Norveta  turned  into  the  bitterest  and  most 
cruel  hate.  In  his  heart  he  swore  that  the  bitter 
fate  of  the  outcast  should  be  hers  should  he  find 
her,  and  the  old  hag  should  be  shot  for  a  traitor 
to  the  crown ;  but  he  wot  not  of  the  mountains  he 
would  have  to  climb  before  he  could  fulfill  his 
dire  threat. 

The  two  guards  were  reported  to  General 
Aradondo  as  being  shot  while  found  asleep 
when  they  were  on  duty  guarding  a  couple  of 
prisoners  belonging  to  the  revolutionists.  The 
following  day  Norveta 's  old  home,  which  had 
(sheltered  her  from  infancy,  was  razed  to  the 
ground,  the  shrubbery  and  trees  hacked  and 
ruined,  and  everything  about  the  place  laid 
waste;  but  Norveta  and  her  mother  were  safe 
at  the  old  dug-out,  guarded  by  Xarnino  and  Big 
Wolf. 

Defeated  in  his  diabolical  plans  for  revenge, 
Cortez  became  a  roaming  demon,  delighting  in 
the  most  cruel  punishment  that  could  be  inflicted 
upon  any  one  who  adhered  to  the  cause  of  the 
revolution.  Gradually  there  arose  out  of  these 
conditions  a  regular  guerilla  warfare  which 
threatened  the  ruin  of  the  town.  Only  a  few 
were  left  prospering,  and  these  were  the  wealth- 
iest Spanish  families  belonging  to  the  Eoyal- 
ist  party,  among  them  old  Don  Arguella,  who 
had  long  since  returned  to  his  own.  To  him  the 
Governor  was  the  King,  as  his  representative, 


52  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

and  Don  Arguella  knew  naught  but  loyalty  to 
his  sovereign. 

When  General  Aradondo,  of  the  Spanish 
army,  suppressed  the  revolution,  and  the  old 
town  passed  once  again  into  the  hands  of  the 
Eoyalists,  the  wide,  roomy  house  of  Arguella 
was  restored  to  something  of  its  old-time  gran- 
deur. It  was  the  favorite  loitering  place  of  the 
officers  from  the  presidio,  and  Antone  Cortez 
was  the  one  of  the  gaily  uniformed  militants 
who  disported  himself  in  the  flowery  court,  wide 
rooms,  lofty  corridors  and  halls  of  the  Arguella 
home  more  often  than  any  of  his  fellow-officers. 
Others  would  come  and  go,  but  Antone  stayed, 
and  played  a  graceful  love  drama  with  the  sen- 
orita,  Carmen,  with  the  scarlet  lips  and  the  dark 
velvety  eyes,  whose  heart  and  love  were  held 
tightly  in  the  grasp  of  Axtel  Xamino 's  small 
brown  hand.  She  bore  the  honors  of  her  father 's 
house  with  regal  mien,  and  Antone 's  friends 
from  the  barracks  found  her  a  delightful  hos- 
tess; but  she  had  no  love  to  bestow  upon  any 
of  them.  There  was  a  restless  fear  that  haunted 
her  that  at  any  time  Xamino  might  be  captured 
while  trying  to  make  his  way  through  the  Span- 
ish lines  to  see  her.  One  thing  that  pleased  her 
and  often  eased  the  nervous  strain,  was  the  fact 
that  her  father  was  a  strong  friend  to  Xamino, 
and  on  this  rested  her  one  strong  hope,  that 
should  he  be  captured  while  making  some  of  his 
dare-devil  runs,  she  felt  sure  her  father  would 
protect  him  and  do  all  he  could  to  save  his  life — 


LA   BELLE    SAN   ANTONE  53 

for  had  not  Xainino  been  a  friend  to  him  when 
fasting  in  the  mountains?  The  good  padre  at 
the  mission  knew  of  their  love,  but  he  was  good 
and  true,  and  Carmen  knew  that  the  messages 
Xamino  left  with  him  for  her  would  be  kept  safe 
until  they  were  delivered  into  her  own  hands. 

Restless  and  ill  at  ease  she  wandered  forth 
one  bright  sunny  morning  from  the  court  into 
the  wide  grounds,  densely  shaded  by  large  for- 
est trees,  that  she  might  be  alone  and  enjoy  half 
an  hour  of  solitude.  She  had  just  reached  the 
little  foot-bridge  crossing  the  river  running 
through  the  grounds,  when  she  saw  Antone  Cor- 
tez  approaching  from  the  opposite  end  of  the 
bridge.  A  slight  look  of  displeasure  clouded 
Carmen's  face  at  his  intrusion,  which  did  not  es- 
cape the  keen  critical  eye  of  Antone,  but  with 
that  subtle  and  pleasant  deference  which  charac- 
terized him,  he  approached  her  and  with  a  pleas- 
ant greeting  fell  into  step  beside  her. 

Carmen  covered  her  displeasure  with  affable 
mien,  for  her  keen  woman's  intuition  prompted 
her  to  be  wary  with  this  wickedly  handsome 
senor,  as  though  managing  the  antics  of  a  leop- 
ard or  tiger. 

He  was  a  fine  specimen  of  the  young  Spanish 
grandee,  dark  and  dashing  and  reckless,  lithe 
of  figure,  thoroughbred,  dissipated,  and  ardent. 
He  wore  the  half-dress  uniform  of  the  Spanish 
military,  and  his  peaked  straw  hat  was  gaily 
decorated  with  cords  of  gold,  the  tassels  hang- 
ing low  upon  the  wide  brim ;  his  deerskin  boots 


54  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

were  showily  embroidered  and  bristled  with  im- 
mense silver  spurs  which  gave  forth  a  metallic 
click  as  he  walked.  They  had  passed  beyond  the 
bridge  when  they  saw  the  good  padre  from  the 
mission  coming  toward  them.  Carmen's  heart 
gave  a  quick  throb  and  the  color  flamed  on  her 
cheek.  " Could  he  have  a  message  for  her?" 
was  her  mental  query ;  but  he  greeted  them  and 
passed  quietly  on  toward  the  house. 

' i  Why  does  Dona  Arguella  blush  so  deeply  at 
the  sight  of  the  good  padre  ?"  asked  Antone. 
1  'Is  it  the  sin  of  another  broken  heart  that 
presses  guiltily  upon  her  fair  young  soul!  The 
good  padre  will  grant  absolution  to  the  senorita 
for  all  broken  hearts.  It  is  the  senors,  wicked 
senors,  from  whom  he  withholds  his  pardon  and 
absolution. "  His  voice  was  soft  and  musical, 
and  there  was  a  half-questioning  cadence  in  the 
utterance  of  his  words.  He  turned  and  looked 
for  a  moment  after  the  bent  form  of  the  vener- 
able old  priest,  and  then  again  he  said,  a  quizzi- 
cal smile  resting  upon  his  wickedly  handsome 
face,  "How  homely  the  padre  looks  in  that  old 
brown  robe  he  wears.  He  could  never  win  a 
smile  from  the  plainest  senorita  in  all  de  Ba- 
jar!"  The  gleam  of  his  white  teeth  showed 
through  his  lips,  now  parted  in  a  smile  of  half 
sarcasm. 

"  Jesu,  Madre,  and  Josef!"  exclaimed  the  sen- 
orita as  she  blessed  herself,  "how  you  talk, 
senor.  It  is  wicked  to  speak  so  of  the  good 
padre  who  cares  for  nothing  but  the  saving  of 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  55 

souls ! ' '  and  she  drew  further  away  from  him  as 
she  hurried  on. 

He  gave  a  low,  musical  laugh  as  he  kept  pace 
by  her  side.  * i  Nay,  senorita,  my  ridiculing  that 
old  ugly  brown  robe  he  wears  can  not  hurt  him. 
The  good  padre  is  faithful  to  his  souls  in  purga- 
tory, and  also  here  upon  earth;  but  know  you 
not,  Dona,  that  he  has  loved  some  one  some  time, 
somewhere.  If  he  has  not,  then  he  has  missed 
sipping  the  sweetest  wine  all  the  ripe  grapes  of 
Andalusia  could  give ! ' ' 

They  were  walking  toward  her  home,  for  Car- 
men felt  that  news  awaited  her  there  from  the 
good  father's  hands.  As  Antone  passed  with 
her  beneath  a  huge  live-oak  tree  he  bent  swiftly 
forward  and  quickly  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her  red 
curving  lips.  She  thrust  him  from  her,  a  flush 
of  indignation  lighting  her  face,  her  words  sharp 
and  cutting.  "It  would  be  well  for  you,  Antone 
Cortez,  if  you  visited  the  padre  and  his  confes- 
sional more  often.  Who  knows  but  that  he  could 
tell  you  where  rest  the  souls  of  the  two  guards 
who  were  killed  while  asleep,  out  on  Mendoza 
Hill,  when  they  were  guarding  a  young  girl  and 
an  old  woman.  The  sight  of  it,  as  the  murderer 
twisted  his  saber  in  the  heart  of  his  writhing  vic- 
tim, has  crazed  the  brain  of  the  little  Mexican 
boy  who  crouched  in  the  shadow  of  the  shrubs 
but  a  few  feet  from  the  old  well.  He  had  come  to 
see  the  last  leave-taking  of  the  two  women  he 
had  served  as  tamale  market  boy  for  so  long,  and 
while  he  watched  and  waited  for  some  sign  of  the 


56  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

two  women  lie  had  heard  had  been  liberated 
from  the  Quinta,  he  saw  a  fine  officer  from  the 
barracks  and  not  his  old  loved  friends.  The  Mex- 
ican boy  was  a  witness  of  what  was  done  that 
night,  and  in  his  desperation  he  sought  relief  in 
the  confessional.  He  begs  me  to  find  Norveta 
and  her  mother,  but  the  Spanish  officer  who  mur- 
dered the  guards  holds  the  secret  of  their  disap- 
pearance. ' ' 

"The  priest  shall  die!"  Antone  exclaimed. 
"He  knows  too  much;  and  you!"  There  was  a 
sinister  gleam  on  his  face,  and  a  dull  red  shone 
beneath  the  olive  of  his  skin,  and  there  was  inso- 
lent defiance  in  the  backward  toss  of  his  head. 

' '  Tsa !  Idle  is  your  threat,  and  useless  would 
be  the  killing  of  the  old  priest,  for  your  general 
and  the  governor  abet  all  that  their  officers  may 
do.  As  for  me,  I  do  not  fear  you  nor  do  I  fear 
legions  like  you.  No  brave  and  noble  Spaniard 
would  murder  defenseless  men  in  their  sleep. " 
Turning  as  she  spoke,  she  left  him  and  entered 
the  house. 

Antone  stood  still  for  a  moment  after  she  had 
left  him,  his  face  dark  with  anger,  and  his  soul 
chagrined  at  his  defeat.  Sullen  with  ominous 
anger,  yet  baffled,  he  turned  away  from  the  Ar- 
guella  grounds  and  walked  toward  the  presidio. 
As  he  picked  his  way  along,  his  dark  and  baleful 
soul  was  comforted  by  the  devastation  of  homes 
by  the  way.  Over  there  was  the  demolished  home 
of  a  hated  revolutionist,  nearer  was  another,  and 
farther  on  still  another.  The  inhabitants  of 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  57 

these  homes  had  been  swallowed  up  by  the  ter- 
rible reverse  that  had  placed  the  Royalists  back 
in  power.  Down  at  the  presidio  the  scene  was 
quite  different;  here  all  was  gaiety,  life,  and 
movement.  Antone  Cortez  solaced  himself  with 
deep  draughts  of  wine  and  the  excitement  of  the 
card  table  until  far  past  midnight.  Between  the 
deals  in  the  play  his  mind  ran  dark  and  turbu- 
lent, hardly  coming  back  to  the  play  when  he 
resumed  his  cards.  He  played  with  a  restless 
hand,  and  his  thoughts  were  often  with  the 
priest  out  at  the  mission.  He  hated  him  and  his 
confessional,  for  there  his  secret  had  been  given 
into  his  keeping.  The  boy  had  rushed  into  Car- 
men's presence,  wild-eyed  and  terror-stricken, 
within  an  hour  after  the  murder  of  the  guards, 
and  told  her  of  the  double  tragedy;  but  it  was 
not  against  Dona  Arguella  that  Antone  Cortez 's 
fiercest  anger  burned ;  the  full  of  that  was  given 
to  the  priest  who,  under  the  sacred  bonds  of  the 
confessional,  had  heard  the  story  of  his  crime. 

Aradondo  needed  all  his  men  at  the  barracks 
to  hold  the  old  town  in  subjection,  and  he  would 
ill  brook  the  ruthless  slaughter  of  his  soldiers; 
indeed,  it  was  only  for  some  important  duty  neg- 
lected, or  for  treason  to  the  crown,  that  he  suf- 
fered the  life  of  one  of  his  soldiers  to  be  sacri- 
ficed. This  was  well  known  to  Captain  Cortez, 
and  the  day  following  his  crime  he  had  prepared 
his  report,  and  backing  it  up  with  the  three 
Mendoza  men  who  had  been  shot  for  traitors,  he 
had  succeeded  in  covering  his  real  movements 


58  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

and  in  securing  orders  for  the  Mendoza  home  to 
be  razed  to  the  ground  and  its  groves  to  be  ut- 
terly destroyed.  Nevertheless,  Captain  Cortez 
knew  that,  should  the  real  truth  be  known  to  his 
general,  court-martial  and  severe  punishment 
awaited  him.  He  knew  the  sanctity  of  the  con- 
fessional, and  that  rather  than  betray  the  con- 
fession of  any  member  of  his  flock  a  priest  would 
sacrifice  his  own  life.  All  this  was  familiar  to 
him,  he  knew  that  it  had  been  so  from  the  first 
foundation  of  the  Mother  Church,  but  he  gave 
it  little  credence,  for  his  own  heart  was  too  full 
of  craft  and  treachery  to  conceive  of  an  idea  of 
such  magnitude  and  of  a  trust  remaining  invio- 
late and  unbroken. 

"Silence  the  tongue  of  those  who  hold  your 
secrets  and  then  alone  are  they  safe  from  the 
ears  of  others!"  was  his  inward  thought;  and 
as  he  sits  at  the  card  table  tonight,  he  is  think- 
ing of  the  best  and  safest  way  to  dispose  of  the 
priest,  for  it  was  not  Carmen  or  the  tamale  boy 
he  feared  so  much  as  he  did  the  priest.  Should 
Aradondo  get  wind  of  the  truth  and  question 
the  priest,  he  did  not  doubt  that  the  truth  would 
be  divulged,  and  this  he  was  determined  should 
never  occur.  Bather  than  meet  the  anger  of 
Aradondo  and  suffer  the  indignities  of  a  court- 
martial,  he  would  dispose  of  a  dozen  priests. 
"The  Church  can  well  spare  a  few,"  he  told 
himself,  when  he  fully  made  up  his  mind  to  do 
the  deed. 

In  his  persecution  of  Norveta  Mendoza  and 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  59 

her  mother  he  reckoned  not  that  such  influential 
friends  as  the  Arguellas  would  rise  up  to  speak 
in  their  behalf.  Carmen  and  her  father  had  been 
working  for  their  liberation  from  the  Quinta, 
but  even  the  old  Don,  with  all  of  his  prestige 
and  influence,  had  need  to  be  chary  with  his 
investigations  in  behalf  of  a  revolutionist. 

Mightier  forces  than  all  others  yet  were  to  con- 
front Antone  Cortez  when  the  time  for  retribu- 
tion came.  Axtel  Xamino  and  he  loved  the  same 
woman;  the  Mexican's  love  was  true  and  long- 
suffering,  while  that  of  the  Spanish  officer  was 
selfish,  and  he  sought  self-aggrandizement  by 
marriage  into  a  noble  family.  Though  ever  alert 
and  watchful  for  some  trace  of  Norveta,  he  was 
pressing  his  suit  for  marriage  with  Carmen. 
This  plan  now  had  come  to  naught,  for  his  suit 
at  the  Arguella  home  he  knew  would  not  be  so 
successful  in  the  future  as  it  had  been  in  the 
past.  He  staggered  away  from  the  card  table 
in  the  early  morning  hours,  and  reaching  his 
private  quarters  threw  himself  undressed  across 
his  bed,  and  was  soon  breathing  heavily  in  a 
deep,  drunken  sleep. 

Carmen  Arguella  was  right  in  her  surmise 
that  the  priest  had  a  message  for  her.  She  left 
her  father  and  the  good  padre  talking  together 
on  the  veranda,  while  she  sought  the  sanctity  of 
her  own  room  and  closed  the  door  before  break- 
ing the  seal  of  her  letter.  She  read  Xamino 's 
passionate  love  words  with  rosy  cheeks  and 
starry  eyes  whose  light  answered  back'  the  story 


60  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

of  true  love.  In  an  ecstasy  of  delight  she  pressed 
to  her  lips  the  paper  his  hands  had  touched, 
so  great  was  her  happiness  at  knowing  he  was 
safe  and  that  no  harm  had  befallen  him.  On  a 
dainty  piece  of  parchment  she  wrote  back  to  him 
the  story  of  her  undying  love  and  her  great  joy 
at  the  receipt  of  his  letter  and  to  know  that  he 
was  alive  and  had  received  no  injury,  then  lay- 
ing aside  the  quill  she  locked  her  hands  and  let 
them  lie  in  her  lap  while  she  sat  and  dreamed, 
as  have  so  many  women  when  receiving  the  first 
letter  from  the  man  they  love. 

Love  letters,  or  "  billet-doux, ' '  as  they  were 
then  called,  were  not  nearly  so  frequent  in  Car- 
men 's  day  as  now.  A  letter  of  any  description 
was  rare,  and  it  was  considered  one  of  the  finer 
accomplishments  to  be  able  to  ' i  script ' '  a  letter. 
Carmen  was  past  mistress  of  the  art,  and  from 
her  box  of  bright  new  quills  she  had  chosen  the 
best  to  write  her  letter,  and  now  she  takes  it  up 
with  the  touch  of  reverence,  as  though  it  was 
something  sacred,  and  putting  it  safely  away 
she  tells  herself  it  shall  be  a  sacred  treasure  and 
used  no  more — its  mission  had  been  fulfilled. 

She  succeeded  in  passing  the  letter  to  the  good 
padre  unnoticed,  as  he  was  leaving,  and  the 
bright,  happy  light  in  her  young  face  repaid  him 
for  all  the  risks  he  had  taken.  He  delivered  the 
reply  to  the  old  fruit  vendor  who  came  that 
evening  to  the  confessional,  but  the  eyes  of  the 
penitent  kneeling  there  were  filled  with  the  light 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  61 

of  a  human  love  as  they  fell  upon  the  letter, 
which  he  eagerly  pressed  to  his  lips. 

"Be  mindful  of  your  Creator,  my  son,  and  not 
too  much  given  to  the  vanities  of  this  life!" 
spoke  the  voice  beyond  the  lattice.  A  humble 
head  was  bent  low  as  softly  the  words  were 
spoken. 

"Bless  me,  father,  for  I  have  sinned — may 
Almighty  God  and  you,  father,  forgive  me!" 

Again  the  murmured  words  from  beyond  the 
lattice  reached  him  as  he  received  his  penance 
and  absolution;  then  the  bent  form  of  the  old 
fruit  seller  came  forth  from  the  confessional, 
and  stooping  beside  the  door  at  the  entrance  he 
lifted  his  fruit  baskets  and  went  limping  away 
toward  the  road  that  led  to  the  river.  Once  by 
the  river's  edge,  the  baskets  were  poked  into 
their  hiding  place,  together  with  the  old  frag- 
ments of  clothes  that  had  served  to  make  up  an 
impenetrable  disguise.  The  bent  figure  sprang 
erect  like  a  young  pine  tree,  and  the  nude  form 
of  Axtel  Xamino  sprang  into  the  river  and 
swam  slowly  away. 

Far  below  the  town  he  came  out  on  the  oppo- 
site shore,  and  pulling  himself  up  on  the  bank 
he  lay  for  a  while  resting  from  the  long  swim  he 
had  taken.  The  balmy  odors  of  the  soft  south- 
ern night  soothed  him,  and  once  he  was  rested 
from  the  late  exertion,  he  felt  refreshed.  Eising, 
he  went  to  a  near-by  thicket,  where  he  found  the 
clothes  he  had  left  there  when  starting  on  his 
way  to  town.  Directly  he  was  dressed  he  made 


62  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

for  the  hacienda  of  old  Pedro,  which  was  near 
by,  and  taking  his  horse  from  the  corral  he  sad- 
dled and  mounted  him,  and  then  taking  leave  of 
old  Pedro  rode  away  toward  the  Medina  to  find 
his  friends  who  were  waiting  his  coming,  that 
they  might  be  starting  on  their  journey  to  the 
hacienda  that  was  to  be  the  future  home  of 
Hackett  and  his  young  bride. 


CHAPTER  VII 

After  seeing  his  friends  safely  conducted  to 
their  future  home,  far  from  the  dangers  of  the 
beleaguered  town,  Axtel  Xamino  mounted  his 
mustang  and  rode  north  until  he  struck  the  over- 
land trail,  or  trading-road,  leading  across  coun- 
try from  Natchitoches  to  Monterey.  He  still 
wore  the  disguise  he  had  adopted  from  the  first, 
that  of  the  common  "greaser,"  which  he  wore 
when  eluding  recognition  by  those  high  in  au- 
thority, who  knew  him  as  Xamino,  envoy  to  the 
Governors  of  the  States  of  Coahuila  and  Texas, 
sent  thither  by  the  Viceroy  of  Mexico.  He  had 
worn  this  disguise  when  fighting  with  the  rebels 
at  the  terrible  slaughter  on  the  banks  of  the  Me- 
dina, and  no  one  guessed  that  the  slender  brown 
hand,  wielding  his  saber  so  dexterously,  was  the 
hand  of  an  aristocrat,  whose  blood  had  come 
from  the  regal  halls  of  Chapultepec. 

Hackett  had  guessed  that  he  was  other  than 
an  upper-caste  Mexican,  but  Xamino  was  silent 
on  the  subject  of  his  origin  even  with  him,  and 
Hackett  respected  this  silence.  The  coarse  dis- 
guise and  the  assumed  name  of  Carlos  Lopez, 
worn  by  the  ' '  greaser, ' '  could  not  hide  the  sym- 
metrical lines  of  the  born  aristocrat  from  the 
widely  trained  and  keenly  observant  eye  of 
Hackett,  even  as  Xamino  felt  that  Hackett  him- 


64  LA   BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

self  hailed  from  other  ranks  than  that  of  the 
common  herdsman.  This  mystified  feeling  had 
given  place  to  a  strong  friendship,  as  the  two 
men  recognized  in  each  other  that  latent,  lion- 
like  courage  that  lifts  man,  in  strenuous  times 
of  peril,  above  the  common  clay.  Each  knew 
instinctively,  as  such  men  do,  that  the  other  was 
to  be  thoroughly  trusted  in  all  things.  And  be- 
cause of  this  sentiment  throbbing  in  his  heart 
Xamino  had  kept  faithful  watch  over  his  friend 
from  the  time  he  received  his  dreadful  wound 
on  the  battlefield  until  he  had  thoroughly  re- 
covered, and  was  safe  back  on  his  well-loved 
plains,  with  his  true  love  by  his  side,  joined  to- 
gether in  the  holy  bonds  of  wedlock. 

San  Antonio  lay  conquered  and  inactive  for 
the  time,  the  still  quietness  of  desolation  filling 
her  streets.  The  fierceness  of  the  fighting  now 
raged  beyond  the  Grande-del-norte  Eiver,  and 
thither  Xamino  was  making  his  way.  Leaving 
Hackett  's  ranch,  to  the  west  of  the  town,  just  at 
sunrise,  he  rode  in  a  northwesterly  direction 
from  San  Antonio  all  day,  and  the  day  following 
struck  the  main  trail,  or  Monterey  road,  just 
where  it  enters  the  Guadalupe  Plains,  which  are 
virtually  the  foot  of  the  "Estacado"  or  Staked 
Plains,  that  strange  expanse  of  arid  desolation, 
coming  down  from  the  north.  The  Guadalupe 
Mountains,  with  bold,  brown  outlines,  keep  eter- 
nal watch  over  the  far-stretching  plains.  These 
strayed  children  of  the  Sierra  Madres,  rugged 
and  water- worn,  wind-carved  and  eroded,  boul- 


LA   BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  65 

der-tossed  and  desiccated,  look  out  on  a  region 
of  savage  desolation  almost  beyond  conception. 
The  heat  is  something  fearful.  The  heated  at- 
mosphere is  so  clear  that  it  makes  the  white 
alkaline  efflorescence  gleam  for  scores  of  miles 
in  every  direction.  It  is  a  luminous  desolation, 
the  sand  grains  are  transparent  and  translucent 
in  the  sun 's  fervid  glow,  and  queer  sorts  of  illu- 
sions appear  as  the  traveler  nears  the  rude  and 
eroded  foot-hills. 

Every  summit  and  mountain  side  is  aquiver 
in  the  magical  light.  Rocks  gleam  and  burn  as 
with  multi-hued  flames  from  a  refiner's  furnace. 
Bald  and  forbidding,  bare  of  timber  in  many 
reaches,  they  yet  carry  at  their  base  a  stretch 
of  some  fifty  miles  or  more  of  sand  and  gravel 
where  grow  the  cacti — hideous  hobgoblins  of 
the  world  of  vegetation.  The  plump  arrowweed 
and  the  mesquite  tree,  with  its  pale  leaves  and 
gnarled,  low-spreading  branches,  also  grow  in 
this  region  of  desolation.  An  occasional  arroyo, 
or  shallow  lagoon,  desiccated  beneath  the  hot 
rays  of  the  late  summer's  sun,  may  be  seen  as 
the  eye  of  the  traveler  scans  the  horizon.  The 
second  day  brought  our  friend  to  the  main  trail, 
where  he  soon  fell  in  with  a  caravan  of  pack- 
mules,  laden  with  goods  and  bound  for  Monte- 
rey. The  mules  were  heavily  laden  and  nearly 
worn  out  with  travel,  yet  they  proceeded  with 
perfect  regularity  in  a  single  line,  regardless  of 
the  lack  of  bridle  or  halter.  The  owners  of  the 
caravan  followed  in  the  rear;  they  rode  their 


66  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

mustangs,  with  their  enormous  spurs  with 
rowels  an  inch  and  a  half  in  length,  and  lever 
bits  of  the  harshest  description  which,  with  but 
very  gentle  pressure,  were  able  to  break  the  jaws 
of  their  animals.  Hundreds  of  small  bells  dan- 
gled from  the  necks  and  limbs  of  the  little  pack- 
mules  and  emitted  a  tinkling  sound  as  the  cara- 
van proceeded  on  its  way. 

Xamino  wrapped  himself  in  his  zarape  at 
night-fall  and  slept  his  weariness  away,  and 
morning  found  him  fresh  and  ready  for  the 
day's  travel.  He  had  been  this  way  before  and 
knew  just  how  to  divide  the  time  that  it  would 
take  him  to  pass  beyond  the  plains.  At  last  he 
saw  far  in  the  distance  the  broken,  rugged  lines 
of  the  mountains.  The  wonderful  clearness  of 
the  atmosphere  made  the  gigantic  rocks  and 
peaks  shimmer  and  tremble  in  the  hot  haze  of 
the  noon-day  sun.  He  had  begun  to  tire  of  the 
slow  progress  of  the  caravan,  and  once  the  foot- 
hills were  reached  he  decided  to  travel  the  rest 
of  the  distance  to  Monterey  alone.  They  were 
drifting  southward  now,  and  the  gulf  breeze 
would  moderate  the  intense  heat,  when  once 
they  had  left  behind  the  arid  plains,  where  the 
desert  willow,  with  its  feathery  tremble,  vibrates 
in  the  heat,  and  where  the  stately  yucca,  the 
"barrel"  cactus,  and  the  Spanish  bayonet  are 
met  with  not  infrequently.  The  landscape  glows 
with  the  rose  flush  of  early  morn,  deepens  into  a 
sere  brown  and  gray,  and  blends  from  that  into 
a  marvelous  purple  as  the  afternoon  shadows  de- 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  67 

scend.  These  rich  tones  soften  every  rude  out- 
line and  transform  every  rugged  arroyo  into  a 
darkling  translucence  of  color  that  transcends 
the  richest  dyes  of  the  Orient,  far  surpassing 
the  soberness  of  imperial  robings.  Sunset  makes 
the  golden  glory  majestic  with  the  many  changes 
that  radiation  can  produce.  All  colors  appear; 
rose  and  pink,  gold  and  amber,  aquamarine  and 
apple  bloom,  the  flush  of  the  sea-shell  with  the 
gray  of  the  night,  the  scarlet  of  the  poppy  with 
the  crimson  brown  of  the  fading  day,  turquoise 
and  emerald  mingle  their  softness  with  the  flame 
of  the  ruby,  and  over  all  arches  an  azure  dome 
uncheckered  by  cloud  of  any  kind,  dimmed  only 
by  a  golden  mirage  of  sun-gilded  towers,  spires, 
turrets,  and  plumed  trees — "castles  in  Spain. " 
With  a  native  power  of  endurance,  born  in 
him  with  his  aboriginal  blood,  Xamino  rode  day 
after  day  without  tiring.  His  mustang,  with 
mettle  of  steel,  lank  from  hard  riding,  and  his 
flanks  foam-flecked,  carried  him  across  the  Mex- 
ican border.  Here  you  became  sensible  of  a 
change  of  environment,  although  the  sand-hills, 
the  sage  brush,  the  mesquite  and  cacti  remain 
the  same  as  in  Southwest  Texas.  Horse  and 
rider  crossed  the  hot  sands  and  rested  beside 
the  cool  streams  in  'the  green  valleys.  The  man 
ate  his  dried  beef,  rolled  the  dough  of  his  bread 
on  the  leathern  tache  from  the  wattle  of  his 
saddle,  and,  twisting  it  around  a  stick,  roasted 
it  over  his  camp-fire.  He  knew  where  to  find 
the  good  watering  places  and  the  choice  bits  of 


68  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

grazing  for  his  horse.  Three  days  after  leaving 
the  caravan  he  rode  into  Monterey.  Skirting 
the  outer  edge  of  the  city,  he  made  his  way  to 
one  of  the  Mexican  hovels  in  the  outskirts.  He 
drew  rein  at  the  doorway,  and  springing  from 
his  saddle  threw  the  bridle  reins  to  a  brown- 
skinned  lad  who  lounged  by  the  gateway,  squint- 
ing at  the  blazing  sunshine  with  beady  black 
eyes  that  looked  out  from  beneath  the  torn  brim 
of  an  old  hat  of  plaited  straw.  Entering  the 
doorway  he  met  at  the  threshold  an  aged  Mexi- 
can woman  with  grizzled  hair.  Her  person  was 
clothed  in  worn  garments  that  yet  showed  the 
flame  of  the  bright  colors  so  much  favored  by 
the  native  Mexican.  Xamino  lifted  his  som- 
brero with  a  native  chivalry,  but  his  eyes  were 
fastened  upon  an  old  time-worn  bureau  of 
fifteenth  century  make,  which  stood  against  the 
opposite  wall. 

"genera?"  was  the  only  word  that  fell  from 
his  lips,  but  his  eyes  made  plain  to  her  under- 
standing what  he  dared  not  speak.  The  grizzled 
head  bowed,  and  a  reverence  for  her  visitor 
showed  in  the  softening  of  the  time-worn,  toil- 
scarred  face.  "Senor,  they  are  there!"  she 
said,  as  she  pointed  toward  the  wall  where  the 
old  bureau  stood. 

With  quick,  agile  steps  the  man  reached  the 
old  bureau,  and  shoving  it  aside  pressed  his 
shoulder  hard  against  the  wall,  a  section  of 
which  gave  way  and  through  the  opening 
showed  an  entrance  between  double  walls  into  a 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  69 

passage  leading  down  into  an  underground 
lead- way.  Xamino  entered  the  opening,  the  old 
woman  closed  the  aperture  and  rolled  the  old 
bureau  back  to  its  place;  then,  stooping,  she 
stretched  forth  her  hand  and  removed  all  sign 
of  the  marks  on  the  sanded  floor  whence  the  old 
box  had  been  moved.  Xamino  followed  the  pas- 
sage to  the  underground  lead-way,  and  then  to 
his  left  about  fifty  or  a  hundred  yards,  and  came 
to  a  large,  cavern-like  room.  From  a  pole  which 
stood  in  the  center  of  the  cavern  swung  an  iron 
frame  with  sockets  which  held  some  half  dozen 
tallow  candles,  one  of  which  was  now  burning, 
shedding  its  yellow  light  upon  the  darkness  of 
the  room  and  dimly  outlining  the  surroundings. 
All  about,  in  regular  file  and  form,  stood  piles  of 
firearms ;  kegs  of  powder  and  ammunition  filled 
every  available  place;  and  stacks  of  swords, 
sheathed  and  unsheathed,  added  their  bulk  to 
the  great  mass  of  material  for  defense  which  the 
Revolutionists  were  gradually  storing  for  future 
use. 

Xamino  remained  in  this  underground  abode 
for  upwards  of  two  hours.  Some  half  dozen 
swarthy-faced,  dark-bearded  men  gathered 
eagerly  around  him  as  he  appeared  before  them. 
He  met  their  glad  greetings  with  a  hearty  hand- 
shake, and  what  passed  between  the  spectacular 
group  was  only  for  the  ears  of  the  prime  leaders 


70  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

of  the  Mexican  Eevolution,  whose  smouldering 
fires  were  now  gathering  renewed  strength. 
The  strong,  muscular  frame  of  a  powerfully 
built  man  stood  in  the  center  of  the  group,  and 
to  him  Xamino  directed  most  of  his  words.  A 
crucifix  and  beads  worn  about  his  neck  showed 
the  religion  before  which  he  bowed;  and  in  the 
smooth-shaven  face  the  glow  of  intellect  and 
noble  manhood  shone,  imparting  to  all  who 
came  under  the  spell  of  his  magical  voice  a  deep 
conviction  of  the  man 's  exalted  nature  and  high 
spirituality.  He  was  a  priest  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church,  who,  like  many  of  his  brother- 
hood, wanted  to  see  his  people  freed  from  the 
oppressive  yoke  that  was  galling  them.  The 
men  about  him  were  the  pick  of  the  Revolution- 
ists, such  as  Jurez,  Guerrero,  and  other  officers. 
They  hung  upon  the  priest's  admonition  to  let 
the  fires  for  the  love  of  freedom  burn  upon  the 
altars  of  their  hearts,  and  as  he  and  his  brother- 
hood were  giving  their  lives  without  reckoning 
for  the  enlightenment  and  uplifting  of  human- 
ity, so  they  too  should  give  in  just  such  measure 
their  strength,  courage,  and  life  if  need  be,  that 
their  future  descendants  should  live  free,  intel- 
ligent lives,  worshiping  their  Creator,  not  with 
slavish  fear  and  dread,  but  with  an  exalted 
adoration  that  could  only  come  to  the  people 
who  worshiped  with  that  magical  love  that 
casteth  out  all  fear. 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  71 

Late  in  the  night,  when  the  soiled  garments 
of  the  "  greaser "  were  left  in  the  cavern,  and  a 
fashionably  dressed  young  Mexican  of  the  high- 
est caste  stepped  out  of  the  cactus  grove  at  the 
base  of  a  knoll  below  the  walls  of  the  town,  Car- 
los Lopez  for  the  time  was  dead  to  the  world, 
and  Axtel  Xamino,  the  Viceroy's  handsome 
plenipotentiary,  appeared  in  his  stead. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

It  is  a  far  cry  from  the  smooth-tongued  en- 
voy, the  versatile  diplomat,  to  the  soddened  load 
traveled  by  the  clod  of  common  clay,  but  in  the 
active  brain  of  Xamino  there  were  resources  ad- 
equate to  even  greater  demands  than  the  trav- 
ersing of  this  distance  would  require.  His  heart 
was  with  the  Eepublicans,  while  by  birth  his 
lot  had  been  cast  among  their  enemies.  He  had 
inherited  from  his  father  a  strain  of  aboriginal 
blood  through  his  grandmother,  a  Mextica  In- 
dian, whose  home  had  been  in  the  city  of  Oax- 
aca,  in  the  south  of  Mexico.  His  mother  was  a 
daughter  of  the  Castle  of  Chapultepec,  and  in 
her  veins  flowed  royal  blood.  Hers  was  a 
woman's  life  given  all  for  love,  and  a  secret 
marriage  brought  its  fulfillment. 

When  it  was  known  by  the  royal  family  that 
the  daughter  of  their  house  had  mated  with  one 
beneath  her,  with  one  in  whose  veins  flowed 
aboriginal  blood,  the  young  lover-husband  was 
assassinated,  and  the  old  friar  who  had  secretly 
united  them  was  banished  to  a  monastery.  The 
young,  imprudent  mother  was  kept  a  captive  in 
one  of  the  upper  rooms  of  the  castle,  and  when 
her  child  was  born  death  released  her  from  the 
leaden  grayness  of  her  life  stretching  so  far  be- 
fore her,  leaving  her  baby  as  a  legacy  to  keep 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  73 

alive  her  memory  and  the  outrage  inflicted  upon 
her  young  wifehood  and  motherhood. 

The  babe  had  thrived;  and  as  it  gradually 
grew  into  a  spirited  boy  with  black  locks  and 
soft  dark  eyes,  the  hardness  in  the  father's  heart 
died  out,  and  in  its  place  awakened  an  indulgent 
and  absorbing  love.  He  had  looked  well  to  the 
training  and  education  of  the  lad  and  had  pre- 
pared for  his  future.  In  a  fit  of  remorse  he  had 
told  the  lad,  when  he  had  reached  manhood,  the 
story  of  his  father  and  mother,  withholding 
nothing — a  sort  of  reparation,  as  it  were,  to  his 
daughter,  hoping  thereby  for  pardon  for  the 
great  wrong  he  had  done  her. 

From  the  day  Axtel  learned  the  truth  he  con- 
ceived a  bitter  hatred  for  the  aristocracy.  He 
brooded  over  the  cruelty  until  he  longed  to  be 
able  to  turn  the  treachery  that  had  been  used 
against  his  father  upon  his  destroyers.  He 
would  employ  the  same  treachery  that  had  been 
used  to  destroy  his  young  mother  and  had  assas- 
sinated his  young  father,  taking  their  youth  and 
all  gladness  from  their  lives,  to  tear  down  the 
hated  barriers  that  had  parted  them  and  brought 
them  to  their  untimely  death.  And  when  he  was 
chosen  as  public  envoy  to  the  Governors  of  Coa- 
huila  and  Texas  and  entrusted  with  valuable 
papers  from  the  viceroy,  his  time  for  taking  a 
share  in  the  intrigues  of  his  country  had  come, 
and  with  that  singleness  of  purpose  which  came 
from  both  the  Indian  and  Spanish  blood  in  his 
veins  sought  the  strongest  leaders  of  the  Repub- 


74  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

]  leans  and  asked  for  adoption,  not  as  Axtel 
Xamino,  but  under  the  name  he  had  chosen,  that 
of  Carlos  Lopez. 

He  agreed  with  the  Revolutionists  in  their  de- 
mands for  better  and  freer  government ;  he  hon- 
ored them  for  their  nobility  of  purpose,  and  for 
their  desire  to  better  themselves  and  their  grow- 
ing children.  Yes !  he  would  serve  them  f  aith- 
fully;  their  cause  was  just;  he  hated  the  op- 
pressor wherever  he  was  to  be  found ;  and  much 
of  the  victory  that  old  Jurez  found  easy,  in  after 
days,  came  from  the  clever  plots  and  subtle 
scheming  of  Xamino 's  fertile  brain. 

When  Cortez,  in  the  fifteenth  century,  de- 
throned the  Aztec  chieftain,  Montezuma,  and 
usurped  the  realm,  he  divided  the  natives  be- 
tween the  Church  and  the  Crown,  to  become 
their  future  slaves.  No  man  could  receive  any 
benefits  from  the  Church  or  Government  except 
those  who  had  been  born  on  Spanish  soil. 

With  the  passing  of  the  centuries  the  native 
Indian  had  amalgamated  with  the  Spaniards, 
producing  the  graded  Mexican.  To  this  class 
the  father  of  Axtel  Xamino  had  belonged — a 
new  race  of  men,  springing  from  the  lap  of  des- 
potism, and  bringing  up  with  themselves  and 
their  offspring  a  bitter  hatred  for  the  tyranny 
that  ruled  them.  Out  of  these  conditions  the 
seeds  of  revolution  were  being  continually 
planted  with  each  successive  generation. 

Xamino  had  learned  much  of  this  at  the  old 
Jesuit  mission,  where  the  good  fathers  had 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  75 

trained  him  in  his  earliest  school  days,  and  since 
becoming  a  man  he  had  followed  the  history  of 
his  father's  people  from  the  earliest  conquest 
of  the  country.  His  first  opportunity  to  mingle 
in  these  affairs  had  come  with  the  opening  of 
his  dual  life,  which  began  the  day  he  was  ap- 
pointed as  envoy  to  the  Governors  of  Coahuila 
and  Texas.  He  fulfilled  his  sovereign's  mission 
in  every  particular;  but  he  was  dipping  his  slen- 
der brown  fingers  below  the  face  of  the  waters, 
down  deep  where  the  current  ran  turgid,  dark, 
and  strong,  and  had  carried  many  as  brilliant 
as  he  to  their  doom. 

The  danger  and  hazard  to  life  that  menaced 
him  in  the  perilous  work  he  had  chosen  only 
added  a  keener  incentive  to  act,  and  heated  anew 
the  flame  in.  his  blood.  Versatile,  easy  in  his 
manners  and  picturesque  in  his  appearance,  he 
had  easily  found  his  way  into  all  the  hearts  so 
readily  opened  to  receive  him  on  that  first  day 
when  he  appeared  among  them  at  the  Gov- 
ernor's mansion  in  the  town  of  Bexar.  He 
moved  among  them  with  the  undulating  grace 
of  the  Spanish  noble,  while  within  his  slender 
body  every  nerve  was  like  an  electric  wire  for 
the  receiving  of  messages. 

As  he  stood  beside  the  baize-covered  table, 
around  which  the  officials  were  gathered,  he 
lifted  his  head  with  a  proud  gesture,  and,  with 
the  sweeping,  haughty  glance  of  a  sovereign 
looking  upon  his  subjects,  scanned  the  faces  be- 
fore him  and  pigeon-holed  his  men,  for  instinct- 


76  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

ively  he  felt  where  each  one  of  them  belonged, 
from  the  governor  down  to  his  last  aide-de- 
camp.  Once  he  had  placed  his  men  and  felt  sure 
of  himself,  he  selected  those  whom  he  had  men- 
tally decided  would  be  the  most  valuable  to  him 
in  his  work,  and  upon  these  he  bestowed  his 
most  fascinating  and  pleasing  manners,  giving 
marked  distinction  to  the  governor,  as  the  local 
representative  of  his  sovereign,  the  King  of 
Spain.  At  the  close  of  this  his  first  state  audi- 
ence, he  was  extended  an  invitation  by  the  gov- 
ernor to  dine  with  him  in  his  own  home,  and 
from  there  the  young  Mexican  from  Monterey 
soon  found  entrance  into  all  the  best  families 
and  homes  in  San  Antonio. 

Xamino  had  chosen  old  Don  Arguella  as  the 
only  man  among  the  governor's  attaches  who 
possessed  any  noble  qualities ;  in  the  faces  of  the 
others  he  read  cruelty,  bombastic  courage,  and 
selfish  aggrandizement.  "Not  a  warm-hearted 
patriot  among  them!"  the  watchful  spy  told 
himself. 

When  he  found  himself  a  welcome  guest  and 
a  prime  favorite  writh  the  old  Don  in  his  hos- 
pitable home,  a  twinge  of  conscience  pricked  his 
finer  sense  of  feeling  that  he  was  not  altogether 
what  his  old  admirer  believed  him  to  be.  He 
looked  into  the  warmly  tinted  face  and  velvety 
dark  eyes  of  Dona  Arguella  and  thought  how 
beautiful  and  young  she  was,  and  he  wondered 
if  his  young  mother  had  been  as  fair  as  she.  As 
his  mind  went  back  to  his  girl-mother  and  her 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  77 

tragic  fate,  his  heart  grew  cold  and  he  felt  again 
the  sullen  tide  of  his  hatred  rising  against  the 
caste  that  had  crushed  her  tender  young  life  and 
raised  the  assassin's  hand  against  his  handsome 
young  father  while  he  was  yet  in  the  springtime 
of  his  love  and  youth.  He  would  live  to  make 
every  member  of  that  hated  caste  suffer,  so  far 
as  it  lay  in  his  power,  he  told  himself. 

Fate  is  strong  and  laughs  in  derision  at  man's 
formulated  plans.  Xamino  was  playing  with 
fire.  Eros,  the  golden- winged  god  of  love,  was 
drawing  him  closer  and  closer  into  his  shining 
net  every  day  that  he  came  again  to  look  into  the 
soft,  beautiful  face  of  the  lovely  daughter  of  the 
old  Spanish  don. 

A  dusky  red  glow  shone  beneath  the  olive  of 
his  cheek  when  he  saw  that  his  suit  was  not  re- 
pulsed, and  his  heart  grew  warm  with  its  first 
flood-tide  of  love.  It  was  this  same  love,  grown 
strong  within  him,  that  prompted  him  to  watch 
for  her  safety  when  the  Royalists  had  fled  from 
the  town,  seeking  safety  for  their  lives.  Secur- 
ing from  his  friends  among  the  Revolutionists, 
who  had  taken  the  town,  a  sealed  compact  that 
the  Arguella  house  should  not  be  looted  and 
that  its  inmates  should  remain  undisturbed, 
Xamino  made  good  his  escape  from  the  town, 
and,  with  some  of  the  leading  Royalists,  fled 
toward  the  city  of  Monterey.  When  but  a  few 
miles  beyond  the  town  their  party  fell  into  the 
hands  of  a  squad  of  guerillas,  a  fragment  of  the 
Revolutionary  army,  who  were  scouring  the 


78  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

woods  surrounding  the  town  to  capture  the  flee- 
ing bands  of  Royalists.  With  the  quick  dis- 
patch significant  of  the  times,  the  captives  were 
executed  on  the  spot  where  they  were  taken. 
The  viceroy's  messenger  was  the  only  man  wrho 
escaped  death,  and  he  was  held  for  a  ransom 
from  the  Crown. 

Finding  himself  a  captive,  and  in  the  hands 
of  the  rebels,  brought  no  dismay  to  the  heart  of 
the  daring  spy.  He  winced  a  little  at  the  thought 
of  entrapping  men  to  their  death,  as  he  saw  their 
lifeless  forms  before  him,  but  he  turned  and  rode 
away  with  the  men  who  had  captured  him,  who 
had  received  instructions  from  the  rebel  leaders 
to  intercept  the  fugitives  in  their  flight.  He  had 
given  the  route  by  which  they  were  to  escape 
into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  and  by  so  doing  he 
had  led  the  Spanish  officers  into  their  death  trap, 
and  placed  upon  his  own  head  a  ransom  for  his 
freedom. 

While  Axtel  Xamino  remained  a  prisoner  of 
war,  Carlos  Lopez  usurped  his  place,  and  while 
the  battle  of  the  Medina  was  being  immortalized 
by  its  human  slaughter,  the  old  gray-haired 
viceroy  at  the  castle  of  Chapultepec  was  eagerly 
waiting  and  watching  for  some  news  of  the  cap- 
tive. In  vain  did  he  offer  a  bag  of  gold  for  his 
safe  return;  only  the  bitter  ashes  of  disappoint- 
ment came  back  to  him  in  his  melancholy  atone- 
ment for  the  cruelty  of  that  far-off  time. 

At  last,  when  an  age  of  suffering  had  passed 
over  him,  as  it  semed  to  his  tortured  soul,  news 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  79 

came,  through  a  military  caravan  from  the 
north,  that  the  captive  was  safe  and  free  in  the 
city  of  Monterey.  When  the  old  viceroy  found 
himself  alone,  after  receiving  the  glad  news,  he 
made  the  sign  of  the  cross  and  blessed  himself, 
then  went  into  the  chapel,  offered  his  confession, 
and  made  ready  to  receive  the  Blessed  Sacra- 
ment to  more  effectively  offer  up  devotions  for 
the  loved  one's  escape,  while  all  the  time  in  his 
heart  he  was  telling  himself,  "It  was  the  gold, 
the  bag  of  gold  that  saved  his  life!"  little 
dreaming,  as  he  whispered  the  words  low  to 
himself,  that  the  gold  was  being  hoarded  in  the 
rebel  stronghold  at  Monterey  in  the  under- 
ground passage  known  only  to  the  principal 
leaders  of  the  Revolutionists. 


CHAPTEE   IX 

When  Xamino  left  his  disguise  behind  him 
and  stepped  forth  from  the  rebel  stronghold,  his 
own  real  self,  he  was  closely  guarded  by  an  omi- 
nous-looking band  of  dark,  swarthy  men,  who 
sent  a  messenger  to  the  Governor  of  New  Leon 
at  his  mansion  in  Monterey  to  demand  the  bag 
of  gold  which  the  viceroy  had  forwarded  to  him 
for  the  ransom  of  his  messenger.  With  the  de- 
mand went  also  an  urgent  letter  from  Xamino 
himself,  wherein  he  asked  that  the  ransom  be 
paid  that  he  might  be  liberated  from  captivity. 
A  guard  was  sent  back  with  the  messenger  to 
pay  the  ransom  and  bring  safely  to  the  gov- 
ernor's mansion  the  King's  loyal  subject,  whose 
life  had  been  jeopardized  in  his  services  ren- 
dered for  the  Crown. 

When  Xamino  saw  the  bag  of  doubloons  pass 
into  the  hands  of  the  band  of  ragged,  half- 
starved  Revolutionists,  he  told  himself  that  the 
first  payment,  which  would  be  only  a  part  of  the 
price  for  the  outrage  of  his  infancy,  was  being 
made.  His  captors  faded  away  into  the  sur- 
rounding darkness,  carrying  their  booty  with 
them,  and  the  governor's  militia  dared  not  fire 
upon  them  lest  they  call  down  a  pack  of  the  wild 
men,  who  were  sure  to  be  close  by  to  protect 
their  confederates. 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  81 

Xamino  allowed  himself  to  be  feasted  and 
favored  at  the  governor's  home  for  several  days 
after  his  liberation,  before  starting  on  his  jour- 
ney southward  for  the  City  of  Mexico.  When 
pressed  by  the  governor  for  news  of  the  rebel 
camps,  and  of  how  he  fared  among  them  during 
the  period  of  his  captivity,  Xamino  threw  up 
his  shapely  brown  hands  with  a  deprecating 
gesture,  and  in  his  handsome  face  shone  a  look 
of  repugnance.  ' '  Horrible !  Privation,  hunger, 
and  destitution  everywhere!  Without  clothes 
and  without  food — many  of  them  have  neither 
shoes  nor  hats — and  their  bodies  covered  with 
rags." 

"  With  these  conditions  existing,  the  viceroy 
may  report  to  the  King  that  the  revolution  in  his 
turbulent  province  is  crushed,"  declared  the 
governor. 

Xamino  sat  silent,  the  while  he  was  watching 
the  speaker  and  reading  the  lines  of  his  face  as 
he  listened  to  his  words.  At  length  he  said: 
"As  long  as  there  is  one  of  them  left,  he  will 
find  others  to  join  him.  They  come  from  among 
the  cacti  and  sage  brush  of  the  desert,  and  out 
of  the  arroyos  and  swamps.  Their  children's 
children  will  fight  this  same  fight  again  ten,  yes, 
twenty  years  from  to-day,  for  their  numbers 
will  swell  with  the  invasion  of  the  Americans 
rather  than  decrease." 

The  governor  shifted  his  seat  in  his  chair, 
rolled  and  lighted  his  cigarette,  pulled  at  his 
black  goatee,  and  then  in  a  nervous  tone  he 


82  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

ejaculated:  "Then  the  King  must  send  fresh 
troops  that  we  may  be  able  to  wipe  the  dogs 
from  off  the  face  of  the  earth. ' ' 

Xamino's  red  lips  curved  with  scorn  beneath 
his  silky  black  mustache,  as  he  said  to  himself, 
' '  The  governor  is  a  fool  upon  whom  one  can  play 
as  upon  a  wind  instrument.  The  viceroy  has  put 
men  to  rule  in  his  high  places  who  love  their  ease 
and  comfort  too  well  to  take  to  their  saddles  and 
ride  to  the  danger  line,  until  they  have  seen  the 
real  condition  of  the  country  they  are  set  to 
rule.  Dotards!  all  of  them,  and  good  food  for 
the  hardy  Eevolutionists  whose  souls  are  aflame 
with  the  love  of  freedom.  Cursed  aristocracy, 
to  raise  such  a  palsied  hand  against  men  of  en- 
durance and  courage  like  these ! ' ' 

The  men  were  both  smoking,  and  through  the 
blue,  vapory  clouds  filling  the  room  Axtel  stud- 
ied again  the  lines  of  the  bloated,  dissipated 
face  before  him. 

"A  despotic  tyrant,  selfish  and  cruel,"  he 
thought.  The  dry-rot  of  his  own  sensuality, 
like  all  the  rest  of  them,  has  eaten  the  fire  in 
his  soul.  The  brave  senors  of  the  bush-range, 
unkempt  and  half  starved,  without  food  and  rai- 
ment, could  devour  such  dotards  as  the  lion  de- 
vours his  prey!" 

While  Axtel  conjured  with  the  thoughts  in  his 
mind  his  companion  succumbed  to  the  alluring 
embrace  of  the  glasses  of  pulque  he  had  been 
drinking.  Axtel  rose  to  his  feet,  cast  a  last 
glance  at  the  heavy  sleeper  and,  turning,  left 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  83 

the  room  and  went  to  seek  his  own  apartments 
for  the  night. 

From  Monterey  to  the  City  of  Mexico  is  a  cir- 
cuitous and  tiresome  route  if  taken  by  the  over- 
land trading  road  leading  southward  through 
the  states  of  San  Luis  Potosi,  Hidalgo,  and 
Mexico.  One  may  paddle  down  the  San  Juan  to 
the  Brana  River,  thence  to  the  Gulf,  and  take 
ship  at  Matamoros  for  Vera  Cruz.  The  latter 
was  the  route  chosen  by  Xamino  when  he  had 
finished  his  work  in  Monterey  and  started  south- 
ward. From  Matamoros  to  Vera  Cruz  he  trav- 
eled in  state,  taking  passage  aboard  a  Spanish 
cruiser  loaded  with  merchandise  at  the  port  of 
Lisbon  and  bound  for  Vera  Cruz.  At  Vera  Cruz 
he  secured  transportation  with  a  caravan  taking 
goods  overland  to  the  City  of  Mexico.  It  is  this 
part  of  the  journey  that  afforded  to  the  eye  of 
the  traveler  in  that  remote  day  an  ever-changing 
scene  of  beauty.  From  the  hot,  pestilential  cli- 
mate of  the  narrow  coast  one  passed  gradually 
into  the  high  interior,  where  the  climate  is  mild 
and  healthful.  The  tinkle  of  the  tiny  bells 
adorning  the  small  bodies,  and  dangling  from 
the  necks  of  the  little  pack-mules,  blended  into 
one  sleepy,  sonorous  sound,  as  the  train  moved 
in  single  file,  along  the  white,  sandy  highway. 
Along  the  way  from  the  coast  to  the  interior, 
by  the  old  Vera  Cruz  trading  route,  one  may 
experience  almost  every  gradation  of  climate, 
and  find  the  productions  peculiar  to  each  zone, 
and  if  the  journey  be  taken  in  the  dry  season, 


84  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

the  beauty  of  the  scenery  cannot  be  surpassed 
in  any  zone.  The  mahogany  and  rosewood  trees 
disport  their  beauty  to  the  eye  of  the  traveler, 
and  grow  with  the  orange,  the  lemon,  and  the 
olive ;  interlacing  itself  amid  the  boughs  of  the 
trees  is  the  beautiful  vine  of  the  vanilla  bean; 
the  gigantic  palms  near  the  coast  are  displaced 
on  the  high  table-lands  by  the  sturdy  olive; 
while  the  floral  kingdom  displays  sprays  of 
every  color  held  in  Nature's  dye-pot.  When  the 
caravan  came  in  sight  of  the  large  maguey  plan- 
tations, Xamino  knew  that  his  journey  was  al- 
most at  an  end.  The  truculent  maguey,  thrust- 
ing its  head  from  out  its  nest  of  huge,  poniard- 
shaped  leaves,  yields  the  pulque  for  the  national 
drink,  which,  when  distilled,  makes  a  strong, 
spirituous  liquor,  called  mescal,  which  produces 
a  drunken  stupor  when  too  freely  imbibed  by 
those  who  indulge. 

As  the  caravan  rounded  the  base  of  a  high 
elevation,  a  sharp  angle  of  the  road  was  turned, 
and  Xamino,  dust-covered,  travel-stained  and 
weary,  looked  far  ahead  and  saw  rising  before 
him  the  purpling  mountains  that  shadowed 
beautiful  Lake  Chapala,  and  beyond,  with  her 
cathedral  spires  piercing  the  intensely  blue  sky, 
lay  the  City  of  Mexico  and  the  far-famed  castle 
of  Chapultepec. 

This  was  the  seat  of  real  danger,  for  around 
the  City  of  Mexico  the  full  strength  of  the  revo- 
lution was  centering,  and  none  of  the  marplots 
indulging  in  the  intrigues  of  army  and  state 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  85 

knew  the  wires  that  were  forming  the  intricate 
net  better  than  did  the  viceroy's  messenger, 
Axtel  Xaniino.  Here,  as  in  Coahuila  and  Texas, 
the  guerrilla  mode  of  warfare  prevailed,  the 
Eoyalists  being  harassed  until  the  leaders  of  the 
Eevolutionists  could  gather  arms  and  supplies 
for  a  renewed  attack  upon  the  enemy.  While 
Xamino  courted  the  danger  facing  him,  yet  he 
used  the  subtlety  of  the  well-trained  spy,  and  suf- 
fered no  stone  or  stick  to  pass  him  by  without 
gleaning  the  significance  it  bore  upon  the  issue 
confronting  him.  He  realized  that  his  hardest 
work  had  but  just  begun,  and  true  to  his  inmost 
nature  he  braced  himself  for  the  conflict  which 
he  eagerly  welcomed. 

Far  away,  beside  the  beautiful  Nueces  Eiver, 
in  whose  green  valleys  the  countless  herds  of 
Hackett  were  grazing,  there  were  two  loving 
hearts  that  watched  and  waited  for  news  of  their 
friend.  Each  day  brought  renewed  hope  to  the 
hearts  of  Hackett  and  his  wife,  but  the  day 
faded,  and  the  sun  sank  in  golden  splendor  out 
of  sight,  bringing  the  dull  gray  of  evening,  and 
still  no  word  reached  them.  Old  Emanuella 
Mendoza  watched  for  him  too,  and  told  her  beads 
for  him  at  vesper  time.  Often,  when  she  led  her 
mustang  down  the  bridle  path  to  the  opening, 
mounted  him  and  rode  over  the  green  rolling 
prairie  to  help  Norveta  and  Hackett  with  the 
herds,  she  looked  with  far-flung  gaze  toward  the 
horizon ;  it  was  in  the  hope  that  something  would 


86  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

transpire  before  the  day  waned,  and  they  might 
know  if  all  was  well  with  their  friend  who  had 
done  so  much  to  help  them  in  eluding  their 
enemies. 

Dona  Arguella,  likewise,  waited  in  vain  for 
news  of  the  absent  one.  Antone  Cortez,  in  his 
gold-laced  uniform,  embroidered  boots,  and 
powdered  peruque,  still  followed  her  about  like 
her  shadow.  Despite  the  fact  that  she  lashed 
him  with  stinging  sarcasm,  and  drove  him  from 
her,  crazed  with  her  pitiless  ridicule,  he  always 
came  again,  buoyed  up  with  the  hope  that  he 
would  win  her  in  the  end.  The  Eoyalists  still 
held  the  town ;  Aradondo  and  his  army  occupied 
the  presidio ;  and  he  was  compelled  to  keep  his 
men  mobilized,  for  swift  and  sure  did  death  meet 
any  small  band  of  Eoyalist  troops  who  ventured 
beyond  the  borders  of  the  town.  It  was  claimed 
by  some  of  the  Spanish  troops  that  behind  every 
tree  was  concealed  a  guerrilla — and  so  it  was. 
The  guerrillas  were  men  who  had  grown  desper- 
ate, and  inured  to  all  kinds  of  hardships  until 
they  laughed  in  the  face  of  death;  lying  in  wait 
by  sunlight  and  by  moonlight  to  catch  their 
prey;  facing  starvation  to  devote  their  lives  to 
the  one  supreme  motive  power  that  actuated 
their  existence — that  of  sweeping  the  hated 
Spanish  from  the  face  of  the  earth  and  regain- 
ing their  beloved  town. 

There  was  but  little  life  in  the  town  save  at 
the  military  quarters  and  at  some  of  the  gran- 
dees' homes,  where  there  was  much  entertain- 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  87 

ing  and  feasting  of  the  officers  from  the  fort. 
A  fresh  relay  of  young  recruits  had  been  sent 
to  strengthen  Aradondo  's  army — poor  conscripts 
that  Spain  had  sent  to  the  shambles — and  their 
enthusiasm  must  be  kept  alive  lest  the  homesick 
soldiers  prove  a  lame  defense  for  the  town. 

The  Arguella  house  was  one  of  the  homes 
most  frequently  thrown  open  to  entertain  the 
military  from  the  post.  Dona  Arguella  made  as 
genial  hostess  as  her  father's  fond  heart  could 
desire,  for  she  longed  to  gain  a  controlling 
power  over  Aradondo  and  his  officers,  in  order 
that,  should  she  at  any  future  day  desire  their 
leniency  in  behalf  of  Xamino,  she  would  be  in 
position  to  ask,  nay,  demand  it.  For  this  pur- 
pose she  suffered  Captain  Cortez  to  follow  her 
about  like  her  shadow,  and  for  this  she  flirted 
with  the  lieutenants  and  aide-de-camps  and 
smiled  into  the  bloated,  dissipated  face  of  their 
general.  She  danced  with  them  through  the  gay 
measures  of  the  old-time  contra-dance,  and  the 
graceful  whirl  and  undulations  of  the  fandango ; 
she  served  chocolate  to  the  gay  officers,  with  her 
own  dainty  hands,  in  the  shade  of  the  palmettos 
adorning  the  open  court;  but  her  heart's  best 
love  lay  in  the  grasp  of  Xamino 's  slender  brown 
hand.  The  days  came  and  went,  bringing  but 
little  change ;  the  Spanish  troops  at  the  presidio 
formed  almost  all  the  life  left  in  the  town ;  only 
here  and  there  could  be  seen  a  few  relics  of 
former  days,  before  the  present  utter  desolation 
had  settled  down  over  the  town.  Occasionally 


88  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

an  old  adobe  that  had  been  left  standing  amid 
its  patch  of  tangled  undergrowth  of  climbing 
vines  and  flowering  shrubs,  looked  at  one  out  of 
its  wilderness,  with  a  quaint  plea  for  the  quiet 
loneliness  entombing  it,  shutting  it  away  from  the 
outside  world ;  a  picturesque  study  for  an  artist, 
but  a  lonely  habitation  for  man.  And  man  did 
find  his  abode  in  some  of  these  lonely  places 
sometimes,  usually  people  of  the  very  poor  class, 
whose  worldly  possessions  consisted  chiefly  of 
a  family  of  ragged  children,  a  dog  or  two,  a 
couple  of  burros,  a  goat  or  two  for  milk,  and  a 
weed  patch  nearby  the  doorway,  where  peanuts, 
tobacco  and  maize  struggled  with  each  other 
and  fought  with  the  weeds  for  supremacy. 
Gourd  vines  grew  and  clambered  upon  the  rail 
fences  everywhere  in  these  poorer  parts  of  the 
town ;  the  star  jessamine  and  the  pomegranate, 
native  children  of  the  clime,  clasped  hands  be- 
neath the  shade  of  the  scarlet-leaved  maples; 
and  the  tall,  stately  pine  flourished  with  the 
sweet,  graceful  magnolia.  To  the  west  of  the 
town  ran  a  smooth  stream,  flowing  out  of  a 
group  of  sparkling  springs,  shaded  by  a  dense 
grove  of  sturdy  live-oaks.  Deep  in  the  heart  of 
the  live-oaks,  beside  the  waters  of  the  largest 
of  the  group  of  springs,  the  adobe  of  old  San 
Piedras  Cotulla  reared  its  head  out  of  its  jungle 
of  wild-wood  growth.  He  and  his  old  senora 
lived  their  lives  almost  entirely  alone,  here  in  the 
heart  of  the  big  trees.  Their  only  child,  Antone, 
had  been  killed  in  one  of  the  uprisals  of  the 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  89 

town.  Old  Pedro  gathered  wild  grapes  through 
the  long  summer,  and  brewed  his  wine  for  the 
winter  market;  he  hunted  the  wild  game  in  the 
forest,  and  with  the  aid  of  his  wife  the  meats 
were  dried  for  the  market;  he  raised  his  little 
patch  of  corn,  tobacco,  and  sweet  potatoes ;  and 
for  the  rest,  wood  and  water,  he  had  an  abun- 
dance right  at  his  door.  And  so  he  lived  his 
tranquil  life,  no  one  taking  much  note  of  him, 
or  he  of  the  outside  world.  But  old  Pedro  had 
a  secret  which  he  guarded  with  watchful  jeal- 
ousy. One  day  when  he  was  out  hunting  he  had 
come  across  a  rich  lead  of  pure  gold  up  in  one 
of  the  arroyos,  and  he  guarded  it  jealously.  He 
had  marked  the  place  so  well  that  he  could  have 
found  it  through  the  black  darkness  of  the  mid- 
night hour.  He  blazed  the  trees  leading  up  to- 
ward the  arroyo,  and  from  there  he  went  by 
signs  such  as  round  stones,  boulders,  and  sym- 
bols that  meant  little  to  the  eye  of  any  one  save 
himself.  Not  even  the  old  senora  shared  his 
secret  with  him;  he  smoked  his  pipe  beneath 
the  shade  of  the  live-oaks  and  dreamed  of  the 
vast  wealth  that  would  be  his  if  ever  the  Eevo- 
lutionists  could  succeed  in  driving  the  Spaniards 
out  of  the  land.  He  dared  not  share  his  secret 
with  any  one  lest  his  store  of  riches  be  taken 
from  him  and  claimed  by  the  Crown.  He  told 
himself  when  the  town  was  free  from  the  tread 
of  the  tyrant,  and  the  republic  was  born,  he 
would  mine  his  gold  and  use  it  to  beautify  the 
springs  and  ground  around  them.  Pleasure 


90  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

crafts  glided  before  him  upon  the  face  of  the 
waters,  and  the  turrets  of  a  marble  castle  thrust 
their  heads  above  the  tops  of  the  tall  trees.  He 
saw  himself  a  man  of  prominence  and  influence, 
directing  the  affairs  of  the  town,  and  his  senora, 
gowned  in  the  soft  satins  and  silks  he  had  seen 
the  noble  donas  of  old  Spain  wear.  But  the 
time  for  the  coming  of  the  new  regime  dragged 
on  leaden  wings ;  only  the  desultory  fighting  of 
the  guerrillas  kept  up  hope  in  the  hearts  of  those 
who  were  restive  under  the  yoke  of  sovereignty ; 
while  the  old  town  lay  dormant,  as  though  sleep- 
ing the  sleep  of  exhaustion  after  a  long  series 
of  hard-fought  struggles,  succumbing  for  the 
time,  as  the  victim  does  when  the  clutch  of  the 
vampire  is  at  his  throat. 


CHAPTEE   X 

Hackett 's  hacienda  covered  acres  of  the  most 
fertile  lands  in  the  Nueces  Valley.  He  had 
bought  a  large  grant  of  land  from  the  Crown, 
and  had  selected  the  most  fertile  land  he  could 
find.  The  wild  cattle  and  horses  had  had  free 
range  along  the  Nueces  Eiver,  until  they  had 
grown  and  multiplied  into  vast  herds.  Save  for 
the  occasional  raids  made  upon  them  by  the 
Indians  they  were  left  to  their  wild,  free  life 
until  the  coming  of  the  white  man,  of  whom  our 
friend  Hackett  was  about  the  first. 

As  we  see  his  ranch  in  the  early  morning  of 
a  blithe  spring  day,  we  quickly  recognize  the 
form  of  Hackett  among  the  crowd  of  caballeros 
gathered  about  the  branding  pens.  The  bawling 
of  young  calves,  the  lowing  of  cattle,  and  the 
neighing  of  spirited  horses,  give  energy  and 
life  to  the  surroundings.  Troops  of  Mexicans 
are  employed  about  the  ranch  and  for  the  work 
of  finding  grazing  ground  over  the  plains  for 
the  fast  increasing  herds ;  great  ribbons  of  blue 
smoke  curl  upwards  from  the  wide  mouthed 
chimneys  of  the  low-spreading,  bungalow- 
shaped  dwelling,  and  the  odor  of  the  early  morn- 
ing meal  spreads  itself  from  the  wide  open 
doors  upon  the  morning  air. 

Like  most  of  the  houses  of  the  day,  the  walls 


92  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

were  of  adobe,  which  is  made  from  mud,  mould- 
ed into  large  bricks  and  dried  in  the  sun;  the 
roof  was  flat,  thatched  with  coarse  grass  and 
then  covered  with  mud.  The  floors  were  of 
hardened  earth  and  cement.  Such  houses  are 
more  comfortable  for  that  hot  climate  than 
if  built  of  wood.  Hackett's  varied  a  little 
from  the  generality  in  that  the  rooms  were 
larger,  more  lofty,  and  admitted  the  coolness  of 
the  sweeping  Gulf  breeze  through  wide  doors 
and  deep  windows,  which  closed  with  wooden 
shutters.  A  wide  hall  ran  the  full  length  of  the 
house,  and  afforded  a  commodious  place  on  hot 
summer  days  for  the  serving  of  the  meals  from 
the  kitchen,  which  opened  directly  upon  the  pas- 
sage-way that  formed  the  hall  for  the  living 
rooms  in  front.  In  the  kitchen  old  Emanuella 
had  trained  Norveta  in  the  preparation  of  the 
delicious  edibles  for  which  her  home  had  been 
so  notable  among  the  grandees  of  San  Antonio. 
Live-oaks,  elms,  and  maple  trees  grew  thickly 
about  the  yard  and  corrals,  and  their  generous 
shade  gave  protection  from  the  sun.  Norveta 
was  the  happiest  of  wives,  and  busied  herself 
through  the  long  summer  days  in  beautifying 
her  home,  and  when  she  tired  of  this,  she  rode 
with  Hackett  after  the  cattle  across  the  wide- 
spreading  prairie.  Emanuella  Mendoza  was 
left  to  employ  her  time  as  best  pleased  her  fancy, 
which  was  to  direct  and  manage  for  Norveta 
and  assist  her  in  kitchen  affairs,  and  to  over- 
look the  peons  who  tilled  the  fields  where  grew 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTOXE  93 

the  supplies  for  the  home,  vhich  consisted 
chiefly  of  maize,  sweet  potatoes,  beans,  and  peas. 
She  had  her  own  mount  and  rode  whither  she 
pleased  as  long  as  she  kept  back  from  the  firing- 
line  of  the  Indians.  But  little  marauding  was 
done  by  the  Indians  on  Hackett's  beeves,  and  his 
home  was  never  molested  by  them  save  when 
they  would  come  to  beg  something  to  eat.  He 
was  kind  to  them,  and  cultivated  upon  his  place 
each  year  a  great  field  of  tobacco  to  divide 
among  them;  he  studied  how  to  keep  their 
friendship,  and  found  much  in  their  wild,  un- 
tamed natures  to  like.  Among  the  different 
tribes  infesting  the  plains,  he  was  known  as  the 
"Good  pale  face,"  "Big  Sachem,"  and  "Son  of 
the  Great  Spirit. ' '  The  several  chiefs  vied  with 
each  other  for  his  friendship,  and  any  of  their 
braves  caught  pilfering  from  the  "Big  Sachem" 
was  summarily  dealt  with  by  their  respective 
rulers.  By  some  of  them  the  old  senora  was  dis- 
liked, for  sometimes  she  would  pour  vials  of 
tempestuous  wrath  upon  them  when  they  would 
come  begging  at  the  kitchen  door.  Out  of  her 
store  of  Spanish  vocabulary  they  could  catch 
the  full  meaning  of  but  one  word — "vamoose!" 
followed  by  the  crack  of  the  leathern  quirt  which 
she  kept  hanging  just  over  the  kitchen  door. 
The  old  senora  argued  that  if  they  were  fed  to- 
day they  would  come  again  to-morrow,  and  it  was 
always  Norveta  who  followed  after  the  redskins, 
in  their  sullen  departure,  and  appeased  their 


04  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONB 

anger  with  gifts  of  food,  tobacco,  or  some  token 
of  a  kindly  feeling  for  them. 

Friendly  as  were  the  Indians  to  Hackett,  he 
never  forgot  his  watchword — eternal  vigilance 
—and  to  make  the  safety  of  his  family  doubly 
sure,  he  erected  a  strong  stockade  about  his 
dwelling.  Through  this,  at  intervals,  he  made 
openings  for  the  sighting  and  firing  upon  ene- 
mies approaching  his  stronghold. 

The  wild  cattle  Hackett  found  roaming  the 
valleys  and  plains  about  him  were  much  easier 
tamed  and  domesticated  than  the  horses,  or 
mustangs,  as  they  were  more  commonly  called. 
These  gathered  themselves  together  in  vast 
herds,  under  one  leader,  whose  methods  man 
could  not  understand  when  making  his  com- 
mands known  to  the  entire  community.  The 
flesh-devouring  animals,  such  as  wolves,  pan- 
thers, jaguars,  and  mountain  lions,  which  in- 
fested their  habitations,  were  powerless  against 
such  foes.  The  vehemence  of  their  onset  was 
irresistible.  The  capture  of  these  wild,  fleet- 
footed  creatures  Hackett  found  to  be  very  diffi- 
cult, for  in  their  wild  state  they  are  strong, 
swift,  and  wary.  The  riata,  or  lasso,  a  long 
plaited  rope  of  leathern  thongs,  furnished  at 
one  end  with  an  iron  ring  and  the  other  extrem- 
ity fastened  to  the  saddle,  made  a  formidable 
instrument  with  which  to  capture  the  fleetest 
stallion  leading  his  hosts  of  wild  attendants  over 
the  plains.  Hackett  was  past-master  in  the  con- 
struction and  use  of  this  instrument.  When  not 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  95 

in  use,  he  and  his  caballeros  carried  the  rope  in 
coils  which  hung  from  a  projection  of  their  sad- 
dles, but  when  their  game  was  in  sight  the  left 
arm  slipped  through  the  coils,  and  by  means 
of  the  iron  ring  a  slip  noose  was  soon  in  the 
hands  of  the  hunter  with  which  he  usually 
brought  down  his  game.  It  was  on  such  an  oc- 
casion as  this  that  we  see  Hackett  and  his  men 
preparing  for  an  onslaught  upon  a  herd  that 
had  been  sighted  under  the  bluffs  beside  the 
river,  where  they  had  gathered  at  their  water- 
ing-place. When  the  men  were  mounted,  and 
their  riatas  hung  ready  for  use  at  their  side, 
they  started  in  pursuit  of  the  coveted  game. 
Two  men  were  sent  on  a  circuitous  route  below 
the  bluffs  to  frighten  the  herd,  driving  them 
northward,  where  Hackett  and  his  men  lay  in 
wait  for  them.  The  "Big  Sachem"  was  a 
goodly  sight  to  see  as  he  rode  his  mustang  with 
graceful  ease,  his  sinewy  form  showing  to  ad- 
vantage in  his  doublet  and  gaiters  of  doe- skin, 
and  his  short  trousers  extending  below  the  knee 
to  meet  the  leathern  gaiters.  His  face,  save  the 
brow  which  had  been  protected  by  the  wide- 
rimmed  sombrero  he  always  wore,  showed  a 
healthy  sun-tan,  as  also  did  the  shapely  neck 
where  the  collar  of  his  doublet  was  left  open  to 
the  breeze.  He  drew  rein  on  the  crest  of  a  lofty 
ridge  to  reconnoiter,  and  remained  there  for 
several  moments,  sharply  outlined  in  the  bril- 
liant morning  sunshine  against  the  intensely 
blue,  cloudless  sky.  He  lifted  his  hat  for  the 


96  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

touch  of  the  cool  morning  breeze,  now  stirring 
the  grasses  and  laden  with  the  perfume  of  wild 
prairie  flowers.  A  sense  of  the  infinite  stole 
over  him,  striking  an  answering  chord  within 
his  soul,  as  the  sweetness  of  the  morning  breeze 
played  around  him.  While  he  sat  thus,  waiting, 
he  suddenly  heard  the  thunder  of  rushing  hoof- 
beats  as  the  herds  came  fleeing  up  the  valley. 
Slipping  his  left  arm  through  the  coils  of  his 
lasso,  then  firmly  grasping  the  ring  and  leathern 
cord  in  his  left  hand  to  prevent  the  slip  noose 
he  was  forming  from  slipping,  he  then  grasped 
the  center  of  the  noose  and  the  main  cord  in  his 
right  hand  and  was  ready  for  action.  His  move- 
ments showed  the  skill  of  the  adept,  while  a 
probe  from  the  rowel  of  his  big  Spanish  spurs 
upon  the  flanks  of  his  mustang  sent  him  after  the 
fleeing  herd  with  the  speed  of  the  wind,  singling 
out  for  his  prey  a  big  black  stallion,  who  was 
leader  of  the  herd.  Hackett  rode  a  sorrel  mus- 
tang with  a  long,  lanky  body,  and  legs  with  big 
joints  and  wide  spreading  hoofs — not  much  to 
look  at,  but  strong  in  endurance  and  remarkable 
for  swiftness.  After  half  an  hour  of  hard  rid- 
ing he  could  feel  that  his  horse  was  gaining 
on  the  pursued  game ;  he  urged  him  on,  and  as 
he  came  close  to  the  big  black,  whose  flanks  were 
flecked  with  lather  and  foam,  Hackett  raised 
himself  slightly  in  his  saddle,  swinging  the  large 
noose  in  a  circle  four  or  five  feet  in  diameter 
around  his  head,  the  weight  of  the  iron  ring- 
giving  it  powerful  impetus  which  enabled  the 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  97 

rider  to  hurl  the  leathern  cord  to  its  full  length 
with  deadly  aim.  He  had  proportioned  the  size 
of  the  loop  to  the  distance  that  lay  between  him 
and  the  stallion,  as  the  noose  would  gradually 
contract  in  diameter  as  it  flew  circling  through 
the  air.  When  caught  the  stallion  was  savage 
and  ferocious  at  his  discomfiture.  The  lasso  be- 
ing firm  round  his  neck  he  nearly  strangled  him- 
self by  his  plunging  and  struggling  to  get  free. 
He  kept  this  up  for  a  few  moments  when  his 
wind  was  so  reduced  that  he  was  forced  to  stand 
still  and  gasp  for  breath.  Hackett  then  dis- 
mounted from  his  horse,  and  keeping  his  hand 
firmly  grasped  upon  the  lasso  he  advanced  cau- 
tiously toward  the  captured  animal,  hauling  the 
rope  tight  whenever  it  tried  to  escape.  In  a 
short  time  he  worked  his  way  to  the  horse's 
head,  and  seizing  its  muzzle  in  his  hand  blew 
strongly  in  its  nostrils.  Overcome  by  some 
strange,  undefinable  influence,  the  horse  became 
quiet  and  followed  his  captor  around  in  a  peace- 
able and  bidable  manner. 

Several  of  the  horses  of  the  herd  were  cap- 
tured by  the  well-trained  caballeros,  whose 
method  differed  from  that  of  Hackett.  They 
threw  the  animal  during  or  after  capture,  one 
man  seated  himself  upon  the  prostrate  animal's 
head,  while  others  girded  a  saddle  tightly  on  his 
back,  and  forced  a  bit  into  his  mouth.  He  was 
then  allowed  to  spring  to  his  feet,  not  too  soon, 
however  quick  he  could  be,  to  prevent  the  skil- 
ful horseman  from  vaulting  into  the  saddle, 


98  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

from  whence  he  could  never  be  shaken  off  as 
long  as  the  horse  disobeyed  his  will.  Within 
an  hour  each  man  has  his  horse  bitted,  mounted, 
and  broken.  Hackett  had  learned  his  method 
from  the  Comanches  and  neighboring  Indians, 
and  could  handle  his  horse  alone,  while  it  some- 
times took  three  or  four  men  to  capture  and 
tame  a  wild  horse  after  the  gaucho's  method. 
With  the  leader  of  the  herd  captured  and  made 
docile,  the  fleeing  band  halted  in  the  upper  end 
of  the  valley,  and  after  much  confused  snorting 
and  prancing  aimlessly  about,  they  settled  down 
to  grazing. 

Hackett  kept  his  hand  close  to  the  muzzle  of 
the  black  stallion,  and  frequently  petted  him  by 
rubbing  his  neck  and  patting  him  on  the  sides. 
Loosing  the  girth  of  his  saddle  from  his  mus- 
tang, he  soon  had  it  girded  tightly  on  the  back 
of  the  big  black ;  holding  to  the  bridle  bit  he  had 
already  thrust  into  his  mouth,  he  led  his  captive 
about  until  he  became  accustomed  to  the  dang- 
ling of  the  stirrups  at  his  sides ;  he  then  mounted 
him  and  with  but  little  more  trouble  rode  on 
after  the  main  herd,  closely  followed  by  several 
of  his  gauchos  who  had  not  yet  secured  a  mount. 

By  ten  o'clock  several  more  of  the  horses  had 
been  captured  and  subdued,  and  as  the  sun's 
rays  were  beginning  to  pour  down  with  an  un- 
comfortable heat,  Hackett  and  his  men  returned 
with  their  captives  to  the  ranch.  The  horses 
were  put  into  a  corral,  and  their  heads  having 
been  fastened  securely  to  the  snubbing  post, 


LA    BELLE    SAN    AXTONE  99 

they  were  then  ready  to  receive  their  master's 
brand.  This  device  was  unique  and  suggestive ; 
it  consisted  of  an  iron  bar  wrought  in  the  shape 
of  a  pair  of  hearts  thrust  through  with  an  ar- 
row; this  iron  was  heated  to  a  red  glow  and 
pressed  firmly  upon  the  quivering  flesh  of  the 
animal  until  it  burned  through  to  the  flesh  and 
left  its  scar,  which  could  never  be  effaced.  It 
was  a  custom  that  had  originated  among  the 
Spaniards,  and  had  been  extensively  used  in 
Mexico  at  that  time,  both  in  sheep  and  cattle 
raising,  the  practice  extending  to  horses  as  well. 
Hackett  had  wrought  his  own  branding  iron 
from  a  rod  heated  over  the  forge  at  the  smithy's 
shop  he  had  erected  for  his  own  private  use  on 
his  ranch.  A  fond  smile  had  lit  his  handsome 
face  as  he  held  up  the  completed  irons  before 
Norveta's  eyes  for  her  admiration.  She  had 
stood  near  him  while  he  welded  the  iron,  and  as 
he  held  them  before  her  eyes  he  said,  "See, 
Chiketa,  how  strongly  our  hearts  are  bound 
together — i until  death  doth  part  us,7  "  and 
drawing  her  close  within  his  arms  he  had  pressed 
a  lingering  kiss  upon  her  warm  red  lips.  They 
walked  away  from  the  forge  toward  their  cabin, 
with  their  arms  interlocked,  making  soft  love 
speeches  to  each  other  as  they  went.  They  had 
loitered  under  the  shade  of  the  trees  about  the 
doorway,  for  it  was  cooler  here,  and  they  both 


100  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

loved  the  outdoor  life  which  filled  so  many  of 
their  days.  Hackett  never  let  himself  grow  away 
from  his  wife  in  the  pursuit  of  his  labors  about 
his  ranch.  He  kept  alive  the  old  courtship  of 
the  first  days  when  he  won  the  love  of  his  bride. 
To  him  she  was  ever  the  sweet  maiden  with  dark, 
soft  eyes,  shining  upon  him  with  the  tender  love- 
light  that  held  him  captive ;  and  he  never  let  a 
day  go  by  without  giving  her  a  part  of  his  time, 
drawing  her  away  from  all  others  to  be  with  him, 
alone,  and  telling  her  again  in  his  own  natural 
way  how  he  loved  her,  and  what  a  wholesome, 
goodly  sight  she  was  in  his  eyes. 

In  the  evening,  when  supper  was  over  and  the 
dishes  cleared  away,  they  would  come  out  and  sit 
in  the  moonlight,  as  it  filtered  through  the 
branches  of  the  big  trees,  Norveta,  with  her 
guitar,  singing  soft  and  low  her  old  Spanish 
love  ballads,  and  Hackett  lounging  upon  the 
grass  at  her  feet,  smoking  his  brown  briar-root 
pipe  of  his  own  make.  The  old  senora  would 
come  out  too,  and  sit  where  the  sweet  night 
breeze  was  playing  hide-and-seek  among  the 
leaves  of  the  trees.  Dreamily,  as  the  poetry  of 
the  soft  summer  nights  lay  about  her,  she  would 
drift  in  a  mental  vision  back  to  the  days  when 
her  other  loved  ones  were  around  her.  Shadows 
were  falling  over  her  path  during  these  days, 
and  the  end  of  the  road  was  beginning  to  dawn 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  101 

upon  her  sight.  She  was  living,  as  the  old  oft- 
times  do,  in  the  past.  In  retrospect,  she  looked 
again  upon  the  golden  days  of  her  happy  wife- 
hood,  when  the  magical  goblet  of  life's  best 
blessing  was  at  her  lips.  To-night  the  ranch, 
with  its  attendant  surroundings,  has  faded  from 
her  ken,  and  she  is  again  beside  the  waters  of 
the  river  flowing  through  beloved  old  San 
Antonio. 


CHAPTEE   XI 

In  the  shadows  of  the  castle  of  Chapultepec, 
with  its  wide-spreading  parks  and  its  great, 
kingly  cypress  trees,  walks  the  Spanish  viceroy, 
and  beside  him  strolls  the  graceful,  elegantly 
groomed  Xamino,  special  messenger  to  the  states 
of  Coahuila  and  Texas. 

They  were  talking  of  the  wild  and  tumultuous 
provinces  beyond  the  Grande-del-Norte,  or,  as  it 
was  more  often  called,  Reo  Brana.  The  white- 
haired  viceroy  was  listening  attentively  to  his 
messenger,  who  was  saying,  "Your  governors 
do  not  understand  the  work  you  have  assigned 
to  them.  They  drink  pulque,  and  smoke  strong 
tobacco,  and  spend  their  days  dallying  with  the 
hours  to  win  favor  in  the  black  eyes  of  the 
senoras  and  senoritas  of  the  capitals.  You  are 
impoverishing  yourself  and  the  King  in  your 
struggle  to  hold  a  strong  army.  Why  not  turn 
more  of  your  time  and  attention  to  the  mines? 
Over  there  are  many  arroyos  filled  with  gold, 
waiting  only  to  be  mined. ' ' 

' '  I  dare  not  weaken  the  strength  of  the  army, 
Xamino;  the  Revolutionists  would  find  me  un- 
prepared should  they  rise  again;  and  yet  thou 
hast  seen  with  thine  own  eyes,  my  son,  these 
beds  of  gold.  Tell  me,  is  it  indeed  as  much  as 
thou  sayestf  " 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  103 

"Mucho  riqueza — medre  mia — gold — gold!" 
exclaimed  Xamino,  and  the  slim  brown  hands 
were  spread  wide  to  emphasize  his  words  as  he 
spoke,  the  slender  arms  sweeping  through  space 
as  though  vainly  seeking  to  bound  the  limitless 
margin  of  the  vast  mines  of  gold  hid  away  in  the 
heart  of  the  mountains  through  which  he  had 
been  traveling. 

"What  I  fear  most,  Xamino,  and  that  which 
strikes  my  heart  with  fear  and  apprehension, 
are  these  accursed  Americans.  The  Revolution- 
ists lack  cohesiveness ;  there  is  rivalry  among 
their  leaders,  and  they  are  impoverished.  But 
for  the  Americans  aiding  them  as  the  colonies 
grow  stronger,  they  would  give  up  the  struggle. 
In  a  message  I  am  now  preparing  for  them  there 
will  go  to  each  of  the  governors  my  urgent  com- 
mand that  they  spare  no  effort  to  exterminate 
all  Americans  who  seek  to  encroach  upon  the 
King's  domain.  But  the  mines!  This  gold  we 
must  have,  and  to  get  it  the  mines  must  be  oper- 
ated. I  tell  you,  Xamino,  that  gold  we  must 
have!"  A  covetous  light  shone  in  the  viceroy's 
eyes  as  he  spoke. 

A  dull  flush  tinted  the  envoy's  face,  and  his 
heart  beat  high  with  exultation  at  the  viceroy's 
interest  in  the  mines. 

i  l  Once  his  greed  for  the  gold  hid  away  in  the 
mountains  gets  a  stronger  hold  on  his  avaricious 
soul,"  he  thought,  "this  accursed  horde  of 
butchers  he  keeps  in  leash,  ready  to  turn  loose 
any  moment  on  the  storm-beaten,  ragged,  and 


104  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

half-starved  bushmen,  will  begin  to  weaken. 
Loosen  the  lust  for  gold  among  his  soldiers  and 
see  how  soon  the  mines  will  claim  them.  When- 
ever he  thinks  the  spirit  of  the  revolution  dead, 
and  he  turns  to  the  mines,  then  a  better  day  will 
dawn  for  the  brave  senors  of  the  esplanada. ' ' 

He  was  looking  away  toward  the  line  of  pick- 
ets that  stood  guard  over  the  castle  and  its  at- 
tendant surroundings,  but  he  saw  not  the  uni- 
formed soldiery,  so  intent  was  his  mind  upon  the 
work  he  had  in  hand;  he  saw  before  his  mind's 
eye  the  fulfillment  of  his  plans,  making  his  lithe, 
brown  body  vibrate  with  emotion. 

"Tsa!"  he  ejaculated  half  aside  to  himself, 
* '  I  must  incite  him  more  vehemently  still  if  that 
be  possible, "  and  turning  toward  the  viceroy, 
with  a  calm,  unruffled  exterior,  he  said  in  half- 
leisurely  tones,  "  Leave  the  sword  lie  idle  for 
a  while,  and  use  your  men  to  work  the  mines; 
then  will  New  Spain  have  her  coffers  filled  with 
gold — more  than  any  nation  has  ever  yet 
known ! ' ' 

Again  the  covetous  light  shone  in  the  greedy 
eyes  of  the  viceroy.  "The  King's  gold!"  he 
ejaculated,  musingly,  as  though  half  aside  and 
to  himself. 

4 'Yes,  the  King's  and  the  viceroy's  gold,  tons 
of  it,  waiting  to  be  brought  forth  from  those 
mines, ' '  answered  the  messenger  in  sympathetic 
tones,  as  though  in  full  accord  with  the  wishes 
of  his  viceroy. 
They  ceased  speaking  for  a  moment — a  pause, 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  105 

during  which  the  old  white-haired  viceroy  was 
the  plaything  of  Fate,  then  turning  to  the  small, 
brown-skinned  man  whose  every  nerve  was  on 
the  alert,  he  said,  "Get  the  gold  for  me;  I  must 
have  it!"  His  tone  was  tense  and  strong  as  he 
continued, ' l  Your  blood  is  young  and  full  of  fire ; 
mine  is  old  and  chilled  with  age;  you  must  lead 
the  way.  Do  it  cautiously,  and  as  you  go  forth 
on  your  journey  seek  in  every  way  possible  to 
find  any  fragment  of  the  spirit  of  the  revolu- 
tion that  may  yet  exist,  lest  we  make  a  mistake 
and  leave  a  fire  smouldering  somewhere. "  He 
handed  Xamino  a  packet  of  papers  as  he  still 
continued  speaking.  "Take  these,  and  when 
you  have  delivered  them  into  the  hands  of  each 
of  the  governors,  give  them  also  other  com- 
mands I  shall  intrust  to  you,  in  which  I  shall 
express  my  desire  that  they  assist  you  in  any 
work  you  may  see  fit  to  take  up  for  the  Crown 
within  their  provinces ;  you  will  find  that  I  make 
special  mention  of  the  gold  mines. ' '  He  turned 
away  to  re-enter  the  castle  as  he  finished  speak- 
ing. 

Xamino  was  left  alone,  and  as  he  stood  wait- 
ing the  viceroy's  return,  he  paused  beneath  the 
drooping  branches  of  a  large  cypress  tree.  He 
leaned  against  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and  taking 
his  tobacco  pouch  from  his  pocket,  prepared  a 
smoke  for  himself,  and  as  he  lit  the  weed  and 
puffed  the  blue  smoke  upward,  he  looked  away 
through  an  opening  of  the  cypress  boughs  into 
the  ether,  where  he  let  his  eyes  follow  the  flight 


106  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

of  a  buzzard — the  Mexican  eagle.  The  smoke 
faded,  the  light  died  out,  and  still  he  followed 
the  lazy,  circling  flight  of  the  buzzard  until  it 
lit  upon  a  tuna  far  away.  He  was  lost  in  his 
thoughts  as  these  words  escaped  him,  "Go  to 
your  unclean  feast,  foul  bird  of  prey,  like  the 
vultures  whose  emblem  you  are.  Plunge  your 
talons  in  the  carcass  of  your  victim,  and  in  glut- 
tony gorge  your  gullet,  as  do  your  paramours 
when  the  feast  is  theirs!"  The  matchless 
mouth,  with  its  curves  and  lines,  wore  a  smile  of 
derision,  as  with  a  half-drawn  sigh  he  finished 
his  reverie  and  came  back  to  his  surroundings. 
The  smart  soldiery  were  still  strutting  to  and 
fro  on  the  picket  line,  guarding  the  splendid 
grounds  with  their  century-old  cypress  trees; 
troops  of  slaves,  in  brightly  colored  service 
garb,  were  moving  about  the  castle  and  grounds, 
attending  to  their  different  duties;  and  beyond 
the  gates  were  drawn  up  in  line  the  cavalcade 
that  was  to  escort  the  viceroy's  messenger  safe- 
ly to  the  port  of  Vera  Cruz,  from  whence  he  was 
to  set  sail  for  Matamoras,  en  route  for  a  second 
interview  with  the  governor  of  the  turbulent 
province  of  Texas. 

Xamino  finished  his  smoke,  and  yet  the 
commandante  had  not  returned.  He  moved 
about  impatiently,  dug  the  toe  of  his  small  mo- 
rocco boot  into  a  tuft  of  the  soft  grass  growing 
at  his  feet,  kicked  it  out  of  his  way,  and  moved 
on.  He  drew  himself  erect,  tightened  his  sword 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  107 

hilt,  and  gave  a  salute  of  honor  as  the  viceroy 
approached  him  with  the  parchment  in  his  hand. 

' '  These  are  my  orders  and  commands  to  the 
governors — that  you  be  given  all  power  and  lib- 
erty in  your  work  at  their  capitals,  as  iny  spe- 
cial messenger  and  authorized  envoy.  I  have 
made  particular  mention  of  the  gold  and  silver 
mining,  and  prospecting  for  leads.  You  have 
herein  your  first  stepping-stone  to  the  future 
viceroyship  of  Mexico.  See  to  it  that  you  fulfill 
the  duties  entrusted  to  you  with  unblemished 
honor,  for  the  King,  thus  redeeming  yourself  of 
the  base  blood  of  the  old  Meztico  Indian;  and 
when  my  old  form  shall  rest  in  the  last  slumber, 
the  honors  I  now  hold  shall  be  yours,  and  the 
mantle  of  royalty  shall  fall  about  your  shoul- 
ders. " 

Xamino's  fingers  closed  over  the  parchment 
with  a  vice-like  grasp;  he  drew  back  a  pace,  a 
haughty  mien  in  his  whole  bearing,  and  in  cold, 
steady  tones  replied,  "Sire,  I  care  not  for  the 
robes  of  royalty,  or  for  gifts  of  honor  from  the 
King;  I  ask  only  to  serve  my  country,  and  the 
pleasure  it  gives  me  to  be  of  service  to  her  is  all 
the  return  I  ask." 

The  old  viceroy  did  not  understand  the  double 
meaning  of  his  words,  nor  was  he  conscious  of 
the  insult  he  had  offered  the  youth  in  referring 
to  his  father's  origin.  Had  he  not  nurtured  the 
child  since  first  it  was  taken  from  its  mother's 
breast,  until  the  aboriginal  stain  had  been  wiped 
out  of  his  blood  I  Had  he  not  made  his  confes- 


108  LA   BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

sion  as  to  liis  share  in  the  crime  of  assassinating 
his  daughter's  young  lover-husband,  and  at  her 
death  taken  care  of  the  babe  of  low  origin!  The 
past  was  buried ;  and  the  future  should  retrieve 
all  the  mistakes  of  the  rash  youth  of  those  heed- 
less lovers,  by  the  babe,  now  grown  to  man's 
estate.  Thoughts  like  these  had  grown  to  be 
fixtures  in  the  mind  of  the  old  viceroy,  until  he 
had  ceased  to  consider  that  any  injustice  had 
ever  been  done  to  the  boy.  He  was  building  for 
his  future;  and  the  words  he  had  just  uttered 
told  the  trend  of  his  diplomatic  manipulation 
of  the  future  viceroyship  of  Mexico  when  he 
himself  would  no  longer  be  among  the  living. 
He  looked  after  the  gay  chevalier  as  he  mounted 
and  rode  away,  closely  followed  by  his  caval- 
cade of  outriders  and  guardsmen.  "He  shows 
the  royal  blood  of  the  Alhambra;  with  the  blood 
of  kings  flowing  in  his  veins,  what  possibilities 
may  the  future  not  hold  for  him  I ' '  soliloquized 
the  old  white-haired  viceroy. 

Xamino  and  his  men  faded  from  his  view 
while  he  yet  gazed  after  them;  then  turning,  he 
went  back  to  his  courtiers  in  waiting.  Leaving 
them  in  the  audience  chambers  waiting,  while 
he  attended  his  messenger  in  person  to  the  outer 
gates,  had  served  to  raise  the  indignation  of  the 
viceroy's  courtiers,  and  murmurs  of  displeasure 
could  be  heard  from  many  of  them. 

"It  is  Xamino,  the  dreamer,  who  takes  the 
viceroy  from  his  duties  and  courtesy  to  his  cour- 
tiers!" said  one,  bolder  than  the  others.  They 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  109 

shrugged  their  shoulders  and  superciliously 
lifted  their  eyebrows,  with  here  and  there  the 
audible  comment,  "No  base  blood  from  the 
house  of  Chapultepec;  its  favors  are  only  for  the 
noble-born !" 

The  dissenters  forgot  their  querulous  tones, 
and  made  low  obeisance  to  the  viceroy  as  he  re- 
appeared among  them.  He  set  about  his  work, 
but  the  hours  soon  began  to  drag  as  the  heat 
grew  more  intense  with  the  coming  of  the  noon 
hour.  With  the  Spaniard's  native  repugnance 
to  real  labor,  he  dismissed  his  courtiers  and 
sought  the  quiet  coolness  of  his  own  private 
apartments,  now  heavily  shaded  from  the  hot 
rays  of  the  noon-tide  sun.  They  were  the  same 
rooms  that  had  once  resounded  to  the  tread  of 
Cortez  when  seeking  quiet  and  rest  from  the 
throngs  about  him.  His  interest  had  gone  with 
the  traveler  from  whom  he  had  that  morning 
parted;  and  the  covetous  desire  for  the  gold  hid 
away  in  the  mountains  was  still  with  him.  He 
knew  that  danger  lurked  all  along  the  way  the 
cavalcade  was  to  travel ;  guerrilla  bands  infested 
the  roads  throughout  the  entire  country  about 
the  capital;  but  his  mind  dwelt  more  upon  the 
gold  than  upon  the  safety  of  the  one  who  went  to 
seek  it  for  him.  He  was  getting  old  and  he  felt 
it;  he  longed  for  private  riches  that  he  might 
shift  his  duties  to  younger  shoulders  and  spend 
the  remainder  of  his  days  in  luxury  and  ease. 

Along  the  dusty  highway  rode  the  gay  caval- 
cade, the  guards  on  the  alert  for  the  ambushed 


110  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

enemy  along  the  way.  Xamino,  the  viceroy's 
especial  messenger,  was  the  least  concerned  of 
any  of  them.  Gradually  the  road  they  were 
traveling  led  them  by  a  series  of  winding  curves 
from  the  high  tablelands  down  to  the  lower 
levels  where  the  real  tropical  climate  prevailed, 
and  the  rank  vegetation  of  the  torrid  zone 
abounded,  and  birds  of  the  most  brilliant  plum- 
age vied  in  color  with  the  orchids  growing  pro- 
fusely in  the  forest. 

Through  this  rich  valley  ran  the  pack-trail 
from  Vera  Cruz  to  the  capital,  and  it  was  this 
highway  that  Xamino  and  his  cavalcade  were 
traveling.  At  frequent  intervals  the  travelers 
met  pack-trains,  heavily  laden  with  rare  stuffs 
and  costly  merchandise  for  the  use  and  adorn- 
ment of  the  luxury-loving  colonists  of  the  New 
World.  Goods  and  merchandise  to  the  value  of 
more  than  twenty  million  dollars  a  year  were 
carried  laboriously  over  the  mountains  by  these 
countless,  indefatigable  mule-trains,  requiring 
thousands  of  mules  each  year  to  recruit  and 
maintain  the  service.  The  pack-trail  led  through 
Puebla — of  the  angels — founded  by  Fray  Gar- 
ces,  Mexico's  first  bishop.  As  the  legend  goes, 
the  good  bishop,  surprising  in  a  vision  two  an- 
gels with  line  and  rod,  while  they  were  planning 
the  situation  for  a  celestial  city,  immediately 
appropriated  the  site,  thus  sharing  with  the  an- 
gels in  the  glory  of  the  city's  birth.  Xamino 
and  his  cavalcade  entered  the  town  as  the  even- 
ing bells  were  chiming  from  the  cathedral. 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  111 

Sweetly  the  sound  of  the  bells  fell  upon  the  even- 
ing air,  floating  out  over  the  colossal  building, 
so  infinitely  rich  in  its  interior  adornment,  with 
its  altar  and  fonts  and  great  tables  of  onyx,  and 
its  candelabra  of  silver  and  gold,  its  beautiful 
Flemish  tapestries,  and  richly  carved  woodwork 
of  the  great  organs,  whose  rich,  mellow  notes 
could  be  heard  waking  the  stillness  of  the  even- 
ing as  the  bells  ceased  ringing.  At  the  sound  of 
the  vesper  bells,  men,  women,  and  children,  with 
the  deep  salaam  of  the  Oriental,  approached  the 
sacred  services  of  the  altar,  prostrating  them- 
selves in  their  impassioned  way.  The  travelers 
tarried  for  the  night,  and  as  day  dawned  they 
resumed  their  journey  toward  the  coast. 

Arriving  at  Vera  Cruz,  Xamino  dismissed  his 
attendants,  retaining  not  even  his  body  servants 
—slaves  given  him  by  the  viceroy — for  his  own 
personal  attendance.  He  wanted  no  restrictions 
in  the  work  he  was  going  to  do.  He  saw  his 
luggage  placed  safely  aboard  the  skipper  that 
had  shouldered  its  way  into  the  line  of  tubs  at 
anchor  along  the  dingy  old  wharf,  then  he  took 
leave  of  his  friends  and  went  aboard  the  vessel 
as  it  was  loosing  its  moorings  and  backing  out 
into  deeper  water,  preparatory  to  hoisting  sail. 

As  the  skipper  was  rolling  away  over  the  out- 
going tide  Xamino  turned  and  waved  a  farewell 
to  the  town,  the  wharf,  and  the  port — that  port 
through  which  passed  all  the  great  chests  of 


112  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

silver  and  gold  that  freighted  the  galleons  of 
Spain,  and  the  boxes  of  rare  and  costly  fabrics 
from  Oriental  looms,  for  the  adornment  of  the 
sons  and  daughters  of  the  grandees  and  hidalgos 
of  New  Spain. 


CHAPTER   XII 

The  military  band  was  playing  in  the  Plaza- 
de-las-Yslas,  arid  the  governor,  walking  in  the 
grounds  surrounding  his  mansion,  heard  the 
music  and  was  glad.  It  had  pleased  his  fancy  to 
set  apart  a  space  of  time  for  a  series  of  festive 
amusements,  and  this,  the  initial  day,  was  being 
ushered  in  with  a  great  military  display,  and  the 
military  bands  were  playing  in  the  open  on  the 
Plaza.  Crowds,  in  gala  attire,  strolled  idly  be- 
neath the  shade  of  the  trees,  and  listened  to  the 
music  as  they  admired  the  battalions  of  soldiery 
from  the  presidio,  marching  in  full-dress  parade. 
The  gay  calash  of  Don  Arguella,  drawn  by  spir- 
ited horses  in  their  silver-mounted  harness  and 
splendid  trappings,  dashed  up  to  the  scene, 
while  the  band  was  playing  for  the  cavalry 
troops  to  fall  in  line  for  maneuvers.  Captain 
Cortez  saw  the  gay  equipage  as  it  made  its  first 
appearance,  and  his  heart  swelled  with  pride, 
for  he  was  conscious  of  the  perfect  fit  of  his 
gold-laced  uniform,  and  the  splendid  appear- 
ance he  could  make  before  the  women  when 
mounted  in  his  saddle  and  commanding  his 
troops. 

Dona  Arguella  was  looking  superb  in  her  light 
summery  costume,  as  she  lounged  gracefully 
amid  the  cushions  of  the  open  calash,  whose  top 


114  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

was  thrown  back  to  admit  the  cool  morning 
breeze.  She  saw  the  dashing  Captain  Cortez,  so 
elegantly  groomed  in  his  brilliant  military  trap- 
pings, but  it  was  the  captain's  horse  she  ad- 
mired most,  so  gaily  caparisoned  and  prancing 
with  grace.  Her  gaze  lingered  upon  the  mettle- 
some horse  for  several  moments,  then,  looking 
the  captain  over  carelessly,  she  turned  her  gaze 
and  scanned  the  crowd  far  and  near  for  some 
one  whom  she  failed  to  see.  The  old  Don  was 
looking  the  well-born  aristocrat,  in  his  suit  of 
white  linen,  with  his  wide-rimmed  panama  hat 
resting  jauntily  upon  his  iron-gray  hair.  He 
was  delighted  with  the  bright  scene  before  him, 
but  Dona,  failing  to  find  what  she  was  looking 
for,  asked  to  be  driven  to  another  part  of  the 
grounds. 

' '  Certainly,  my  dear,  if  you  wish  it ;  but  dost 
thou  not  enjoy  the  soldiers'  gay  attire f "  asked 
her  father.  "The  captain,  methinks,  is  looking 
uncommonly  fine  this  morning  in  his  braids  and 
laces  of  gold.  Doth  he  fail  to  find  favor  in  thine 
eyes,  my  Dona!  Have  you  heard  the  late  news 
of  the  presidio — that  the  captain  has  found  fa- 
vor with  the  King,  and  is  soon  to  receive  his 
brevet  direct  from  the  hands  of  royalty !" 

"Not  the  brevet  and  the  gold  lace,  but  the 
man  beneath,  father,  would  I  choose  to  know 
first,"  replied  his  daughter,  as  she  adjusted  the 
black  lace  mantilla  about  her  shoulders,  furled 
her  wide  fan,  and  leaned  forward  as  though 
about  to  give  orders  to  the  slave  who  stood  hold- 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  115 

ing  the  mettlesome  horses  by  the  bit.  Instantly 
the  old  gentleman  was  all  alacrity,  and  with  his 
native  chivalrous  desire  to  please,  gave  the  or- 
der for  her, ' '  To  the  tournament  grounds, ' '  and 
at  his  words  the  driver  tightened  his  reins,  the 
slave  at  the  horses '  heads  loosened  his  hold  and 
sprang  upon  the  box-seat  beside  the  driver  as 
the  horses  dashed  away  toward  the  tournament 
grounds. 

The  tournament  grounds  lay  out  on  the  open 
esplanade,  beyond  the  bull-ring,  the  amphithe- 
ater, and  the  cock-pits,  for  the  matadors  at  the 
bull-ring  and  the  fowls  about  the  cock-pits  were 
to  furnish  much  of  the  amusement  for  the  sum- 
mer festival  during  the  next  few  days.  At  the 
tournament  grounds  rockaways,  carryalls,  and 
calashes  were  drawn  up  in  line  to  view  the 
knights  as  they  ran  the  race.  The  Arguella  con- 
veyance had  not  yet  secured  an  advantageous 
viewpoint,  despite  the  fact  that  its  occupants 
were  the  proudest  gentry  of  the  town.  A  knight 
within  the  ring,  or  palisade,  discovering  who 
the  newcomers  were,  and  seeing  their  dilemma, 
spurred  his  horse  into  a  swinging  gallop,  and  as 
he  passed  out  through  the  opening  at  the  north 
end  of  the  course,  he  turned  his  horse's  head 
and  rode  direct  toward  the  rockaway,  drawn 
by  Don  Arguella '&  mettlesome  steeds.  A  rosy 
flush  spread  over  the  beautiful  face  of  Dona  Ar- 
guella, and  her  small  ears  grew  crimson  beneath 
the  tiny  bonnet  of  white  fluffy  lace,  illusion,  and 
pink  rosebuds,  that  perched  upon  her  dusky 


116  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

black  hair.  She  recognized  in  the  knight  who 
had  come  to  their  relief  the  one  for  whom  she 
had  been  looking.  The  envoy  from  Mexico,  who 
had  been  but  a  few  days  in  San  Antonio,  had 
been  chosen  as  one  of  the  knights  who  was  to  ride 
for  the  golden  cup  at  the  tournament;  this  fact 
had  been  made  known  to  Dona  Arguella  only 
the  day  before,  and  although  Axtel  Xamino  had 
already  been  three  days  in  the  town,  he  had  been 
unable  to  arrange  for  a  visit  to  the  Arguella 
home.  The  sting  he  had  received  from  the  vice- 
roy concerning  his  father's  low  origin,  as  they 
were  taking  leave  of  each  other  more  than  a 
month  ago,  still  rankled  in  his  breast.  He  had 
waited  for  Dona  Arguella  to  give  some  sign  that 
she  wished  to  see  him  before  he  made  his  appear- 
ance before  her  in  the  sanctuary  of  her  own  home. 
As  the  knight  approached,  he  lifted  his  helmet 
and  bowed  low  to  the  occupants  of  the  open  car- 
riage, his  own  face  mantling  with  a  dull  red 
glow,  for  his  quick  eye  had  caught  the  flush  of 
pleasure  and  look  of  delight  on  the  fair  Dona's 
face  when  she  first  recognized  him.  When  he 
had  led  them  to  a  place  from  whence  they  could 
view  the  lists  to  advantage,  he  gave  a  cordial 
handshake  to  Don  Arguella,  who  heartily  wished 
him  success  in  the  contest ;  then  turning,  he  rode 
back  into  the  grounds  within  the  palisade.  Dona 
settled  herself  comfortably  among  the  cushions 
of  her  carriage  and  prepared  to  enjoy  the  scene 
before  her.  She  was  conscious  of  a  great  happi- 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  117 

ness  within,  and  in  her  large  dark  eyes  a  soft 
love-light  was  shining. 

At  each  end  of  the  lists  a  number  of  tents  were 
pitched;  to  each  tent  one  knight  belonged,  and 
before  one  of  these  tents  Xainino  paused  and 
dismounted.  Dona  Arguella's  eyes  followed  him 
until  he  entered  his  tent,  before  the  door  of 
which  stood  his  squire,  who  was  to  attend  him  in 
his  final  mount.  About  the  stables  black  vas- 
sals stood,  waiting  to  lead  the  chargers  forth. 
Near  the  vassals  stood  the  trumpeter  with  the 
bugle  which  was  to  sound  the  charge.  The 
tournament  had  been  regulated  something  after 
the  passage-at-arms  of  Prince  John's  time  and 
the  days  of  Richard  the  Lion-hearted. 

Outside  the  lists  were  elevated  seats,  like 
those  of  a  race  course,  for  the  convenience  of  the 
spectators.  Culminating  the  general  arrange- 
ments was  a  brightly  decorated  gallery  in  the 
center  of  the  eastern  side  of  the  lists,  which  was 
graced  by  a  sort  of  throne  and  canopy,  carpeted 
and  cushioned,  waiting  for  the  coming  of  the 
fair  maiden  whose  knight  would  crown  her 
queen  of  the  festive  scene. 

Among  pennons  and  flags,  small  and  large, 
which  sported  to  the  breeze,  burning  hearts, 
bleeding  hearts,  bows  and  quivers,  and  many 
other  emblems  of  Cupid's  triumph,  were  emblaz- 
oned the  words,  " Queen  of  the  Tournament," 
but  no  fair  form  yet  sat  upon  the  throne  of 
Beauty  and  Love. 

Several  small  boys  and  girls,  dressed  in  fancy 


118  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

robes  of  bright  colors,  served  as  pages  and 
awaited  the  coming  of  their  queen.  Two  armed 
and  mounted  men,  acting  as  field  marshals,  rode 
to  and  fro  the  full  length  of  the  lists  to  enforce 
and  preserve  order.  King  John,  in  his  royal 
robes,  sat  enthroned  at  the  opening,  and  was  to 
act  as  ruler  of  the  tournament.  Each  knight 
was  named  for  some  locality — "Fowl  of  the 
Air,"  or  " Denizen  of  the  Forest;"  and  each 
knight  had  his  emblem  blazoned  upon  the  robe 
covering  his  charger.  Our  friend  Xamino  was 
' '  Knight  of  the  Black  Eagle. ' '  After  all  prepa- 
rations had  been  completed,  the  trumpeter  gave 
a  loud  call  on  his  bugle,  and  at  the  sound  each 
knight  stepped  from  his  tent  as  his  charger  was 
led  forth,  grasping  their  spears  and  shields  from 
their  squires,  and  with  helmets  tight-drawn, 
they  mounted  and  rode  into  the  open,  their 
brightly  colored  sashes  contrasting  with  the 
color  of  the  robes  worn  by  their  chargers,  red, 
yellow  and  blue.  Unlike  the  original  passage- 
at-arms  that  was  fought  to  the  death  with  the 
battle-axe,  this  was  after  the  modified  role  of 
the  most  skilful  lance  capturing  the  largest 
number  of  metal  rings  suspended  from  cross 
bars  erected  upon  poles,  running  the  full  length 
of  the  lists.  The  knight  who  captured  the  larg- 
est number  of  rings  during  each  successive  dash 
was  winner  of  the  tournament,  and  secured  the 
golden  cup,  or  trophy,  and  likewise  was  given 
the  power  to  crown  his  lady-love  queen  of  the 
tournament. 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  119 

As  the  trumpeter  sounded  the  charge  there 
was  flashing  of  lances  and  clashing  of  shields  as 
each  knight  sought  an  advantageous  inroad  for 
the  coveted  rings.  Amid  the  mad  cheering  of 
the  spectators,  the  horses  passed  the  poles  of 
the  lists  with  lightning  rapidity,  their  necks  out- 
stretched and  their  nostrils  distended  as  they 
emerged  at  the  north  opening,  as  deeply  imbued 
with  the  sport  as  were  their  riders. 

When  the  dust,  raised  by  the  trampling  of  so 
many  horses'  feet,  that  darkened  the  air,  had 
cleared  away,  the  knights  were  seen  returning 
to  their  tents;  the  first  dash  was  over.  The 
trumpets  brayed,  and  fans  fluttered  and  waved 
in  the  galleries,  and  then  came  another  pause  of 
breathless  excitement  as  five  fresh  knights,  at- 
tended by  their  squires  and  armed  cap-a-pie, 
rode  forth  and  made  ready  for  the  second  dash. 
This  was  repeated  until  the  gallant  knights  be- 
gan to  show  the  effects  of  the  fray.  All  that  was 
graceful  and  fanciful  in  their  garb  had  become 
dust-covered,  and  their  plumes  were  bedraggled 
with  the  fierce  struggle  of  the  contestants  for 
the  victory. 

Breaking  the  rules,  and  crowding  their  op- 
ponents out  of  line,  had  barred  many  of  the 
knights  from  finishing  in  the  game.  The  knights 
who  were  yet  left  in  the  field  rode  with  stubborn 
determination,  and  pressed  hard  for  the  victory 
before  the  closing  of  the  heat.  Women  waved 
their  handkerchiefs  and  screamed  their  encour- 


120  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

agement  as  they  urged  their  favorite  knights 
onward;  men  cheered  until  their  voices  were 
hoarse  and  their  throats  sore.  The  last  dash  of 
the  closing  heat  was  between  two  riders  who  had 
been  left  victors  of  the  field,  the  only  remaining 
knights  who  had  not  broken  some  of  the  rules 
and  thus  barred  themselves  from  the  lists. 

'One  of  the  knights  remaining  in  the  field  was 
Xamino,  Knight  of  the  Black  Eagle,  and  the 
other,  a  Knight  of  St.  George,  was  an  American, 
tall,  fair-haired  and  of  muscular  build.  He  rode 
a  horse  of  English  foal,  whose  stock  had  been 
cradled  in  Virginia  in  the  seventeenth  century. 
The  rider  himself  was  of  an  old  English  family 
which  had  taken  root  in  American  soil,  and  was 
within  the  "purple  circle"  of  English  aristoc- 
racy, as  one  of  its  founders  in  the  old  colony. 
The  spirit  of  adventure  had  brought  him,  as  it 
was  bringing  many  of  the  American  colonists, 
to  the  Southwest,  so  full  of  alluring  possibilities. 

The  "Black  Knight,"  as  he  had  been  termed 
during  the  joust,  was  cheered  vociferously  by 
the  crowd  in  the  Latin  tongue — for  the  sport  was 
a  new  game  to  the  Spaniards  and  Mexicans,  and 
had  been  brought  among  them  with  the  advent 
of  the  Americans.  The  Knight  of  St.  George, 
with  scarlet  plume  and  helmet,  was  pressing  the 
Mexican  hard  for  the  victory;  their  faces  were 
begrimed  with  dust  and  perspiration,  their 
horses  lathering  with  sweat,  their  flanks  foam- 
flecked  and  dripping. 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  121 

"Bang!  Burr-er!  Whiz-ziz!"  and  the  last 
ring  is  captured,  thus  closing  the  last  heat  of 
the  tournament.  The  knights  delivered  their 
trophies  to  the  heralds  in  waiting,  and  when  the 
count  was  made,  it  was  found  that  the  Black 
Knight  had  won  the  honors  of  the  field.  In- 
stantly the  crowd  became  wild  with  enthusiasm, 
and  loud  cheering  for  the  victorious  knight 
filled  the  air,  reaching  far  beyond  the  lists. 

The  cheering  ceased,  and  for  a  few  moments 
there  was  silence ;  a  breathless  pause  of  abated 
expectation  held  the  crowd,  as  all  eyes  watched 
the  movements  of  the  victorious  knight,  to  see 
upon  what  fair  maiden's  head  he  would  place 
the  crown.  The  field  marshal  cleared  the  way 
for  the  black-helmeted  hero,  who  rode  slowly  by 
the  galleries,  looking  smilingly  up  into  the  fair 
faces  whose  bright  eyes  were  watching  his  every 
movement.  Far  up  in  one  of  the  galleries  a 
bright  young  face  gazed  down  upon  the  black- 
helmeted  knight,  and  a  gleeful  laugh  broke  the 
stillness;  it  was  one  of  the  pages  beside  the 
throne,  awaiting  the  coming  of  the  Queen,  who 
had  given  vent  to  the  exuberance  of  his  pleasure 
at  the  novel  scene.  The  knight  urged  his  horse 
past  the  galleries  and  beyond  the  opening.  He 
rode  on  to  where  the  calash  of  Don  Arguella 
stood,  his  shield  lowered,  and  as  he  approached 
he  leaned  slightly  forward,  and  with  his  bright 
shining  lance  uplifted  he  reached  forward,  and 
touching  lightly  the  arm  of  Dona  Arguella,  he 


122  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

left  the  coveted  crown  resting  in  her  lap.  Again 
the  crowd  cheered  loud  and  long,  to  see  the  beau- 
tiful Dona  Arguella,  she  who  was  so  well  loved 
by  every  one  for  her  royal  nature  and  her  fair 
face,  the  proud  Castilian  maid,  fairest  of  all  the 
beautiful  Spanish  maidens  of  San  Antonio, 
crowned  Queen  of  Beauty  and  Love. 

The  amphitheater  was  packed  with  a  typical 
Mexican  and  Spanish  throng;  it  was  a  scene  fa- 
miliar to  them  since  their  infancy,  and  more 
thrilling  than  the  tournament,  for  the  bull,  in 
his  death  agonies,  was  to  satiate  their  blood- 
lust,  which  the  past  few  days  of  rioting  had 
aroused  anew.  The  silken- girdled  matadors, 
with  their  sharp  prods,  had  roused  the  beast's 
most  demoniacal  fury.  With  bloodshot  eyes, 
and  blood  spurting  from  nose  and  mouth,  the 
mad  bull,  insane  with  his  suffering,  made  charge 
after  charge  upon  his  agile  and  cunning  enemies. 
There  was  a  gasp,  an  indrawn  breathing  of  the 
packed  humanity  up  in  the  amphitheater,  as  the 
bull  made  a  furious  rush  at  his  antagonist  only 
to  receive  his  death  wound.  Lowered  in  the 
dust,  and  weltering  in  his  own  blood,  the  beast 
was  left  to  breathe  out  his  last;  the  gay  mata- 
dors had  earned  their  gold  and  received  their 
applause  from  the  merry  crowd,  and  the  bull 
fight,  like  the  tournament,  had  become  a  thing  of 
the  past. 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  123 

Around  the  cock-pits  could  be  heard  volleys 
of  oaths,  as  the  swarthy  champions  of  the  birds 
contended  for  the  rights  of  the  fowls  upon  which 
they  were  betting.  Not  infrequently,  too,  did 
the  contestants  clinch  in  a  bloody  fight.  With 
eager  zest  this  well-loved  sport  had  been  fol- 
lowed each  day  of  the  week's  amusement.  No 
small  number  of  the  birds  had  been  sacrificed, 
and  the  lives  of  men  as  well,  in  the  pursuit  of 
this  favorite  pastime.  It  had  pleased  the  gov 
ernor  to  see  his  subjects  roused  from  the  sleepy 
lethargy  that  had  lain  so  long  upon  the  town. 
He  sat  alone  on  the  closing  night  of  the  week's 
mad  revelry.  He  was  reading  the  viceroy's 
message,  and  from  time  to  time,  as  he  was  read- 
ing, he  would  lift  his  head  and  listen  to  the 
noises  rising  from  the  town.  The  noise  was 
loud  and  threatening;  the  governor  frowned, 
laid  aside  the  papers  he  was  reading,  and  sum- 
moning a  courier,  sent  a  command  to  the  pre- 
sidio to  disperse  the  crowds  on  the  streets,  but 
none  of  the  revelers  were  to  be  harmed.  His 
Excellency  feared  an  outbreak,  for  many 
strangers  from  near  by  had  come  into  the  town 
for  the  week's  merry-making;  buccaneers  from 
the  coast,  rough  fishermen,  and  sea  pirates  who 
had  their  hiding-places  along  the  Gulf  coast, 
had  drifted  inland  to  get  a  peep  at  civilization 
and  the  soft,  pretty  faces  of  women.  As  the 
governor  heard  the  bugle  call  from  the  presidio. 


124  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

he  knew  his  message  had  been  delivered  and  that 
his  command  would  be  executed.  The  convic- 
tion brought  a  look  of  relief  into  his  face,  and  he 
returned  to  the  viceroy's  parchment,  leaving 
the  troops  to  take  care  of  the  town  and  repress 
any  outburst. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

It  was  the  night  of  the  tournament  ball  at  the 
home  of  Don  Arguella,  and  the  old  house  was 
looking  its  best.  The  ta)l  and  stately  cande- 
labra, used  only  on  festive  occasions,  were 
lighted  and  threw  a  mellow  light  throughout  the 
rooms.  The  lofty  ceilings  and  the  richly  fres- 
coed walls  gave  a  stately  air  that  served  to  en- 
hance the  picturesqueness  of  the  surroundings. 

The  rooms  were  filled  with  the  grandees  of  the 
town;  military  men,  wearing  the  gay,  brilliant 
Spanish  uniform,  lent  a  distinguished  air  to  the 
scene;  debonair  Captain  Cortez  was  looking 
elegant  in  his  fine  array,  but  his  handsome  face 
wore  a  scowl,  for  the  day's  festivities  had  not 
culminated  to  suit  him.  He  had  conceived  a  bit- 
ter hate  for  the  Mexican  envoy. 

The  ball-room  filled  early;  and  eager,  happy 
faces  wore  the  brightest  of  smiles.  Very  pretty 
the  senoritas  looked  in  their  airy,  cool,  ball- 
room costumes.  The  Spanish  caste  of  features 
predominated  among  them,  though  hair  of  other 
shades  than  black  could  be  seen,  commonly 
dressed  with  fluffy  loops  over  the  ears,  and 
drawn  high  into  a  coil,  where  it  was  held  in  place 
by  high-backed  combs  and  long  pins  with  lobes 
of  gold  for  heads.  Most  of  the  combs  were  set 
with  jewels ;  the  less  pretentious  were  decorated 


126  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

with  rows  of  shell-like  beads,  some  coral  and 
some  pearl  colored. 

The  gowns  worn  by  the  women  of  dignity  and 
position  were  of  heavy  satins  and  rich  brocades 
of  different  shades  of  red  and  yellow,  but  the 
young  senoritas  were  gowned  in  flowered  silks 
or  white  tulle.  Coquettish  little  jackets  of  black 
velvet,  much  bespangled  and  elaborately  em- 
broidered, set  off  many  of  the  young  girls' 
gowns,  and  gave  the  decidedly  picturesque 
touch  so  dear  to  the  heart  of  the  splendor-loving 
Spanish  nature.  Generally  the  dress  had  long, 
pointed  bodice,  and  full,  flowing  skirt,  the  bodice 
cut  to  reveal  the  neck  and  arms.  A  raised  seat 
had  been  prepared  for  the  musicians  at  one  side 
of  the  long  salon.  There  was  a  side  door  near 
where  they  sat,  and  a  troop  of  little  Mexican 
boys,  in  scarlet  and  yellow  garb,  were  kept  busy, 
under  the  directorship  of  the  old  Don,  bringing 
and  taking  trays  filled  with  glasses  and  tankards 
of  wine,  which  they  served  to  the  musicians  and 
those  of  the  guests  who  cared  to  partake.  After 
each  visit  of  the  tankard,  the  fiddles  and  guitars 
were  made  to  pour  forth  renewed  bars  of  mel- 
ody, and  the  nimble  feet  of  the  dancers  flew 
faster  to  the  swift-flying  measures  of  the  dance. 

Axtel  Xamino,  the  handsome  young  Mexican, 
had  waited  and  watched  all  evening  for  a  word 
with  Dona  Arguella.  In  vain  did  the  soft-eyed 
senoritas  cast  encouraging  glances  at  him;  he 
held  aloof  from  them,  waiting.  They  chatted 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  127 

among  themselves  in  murmurs  about  him,  for 
it  was  known  that  he  had  traveled  much  through 
Mexico  and  the  Californias,  was  the  boldest 
rider  in  all  the  North,  and  they  spoke  of  him  as 
the  handsome  California  grandee.  He  had 
spent  a  part  of  his  youth  with  the  friars  at  the 
old  San  Miguel  mission,  amid  the  cold  fogs  and 
thule  lands  of  upper  California.  Here  he  had 
learned  to  ride  far  afield  when  but  a  lad,  and 
riding  had  ever  been  one  of  his  favorite  sports. 
He  had  ridden  on  the  tournament  grounds  with 
the  same  zest  he  had  felt  up  there  among  the 
foot-hills  beyond  the  gray,  cold  fogs. 

He  had  been  detained  in  the  early  part  of  the 
evening,  and  now  he  was  waiting  to  pay  his 
deference  to  his  fair  hostess.  He  wore  the  even- 
ing dress  of  Monterey— black  trousers,  short  to 
the  knees,  and  buckled  over  white  silk  stockings ; 
black  shoes  with  gold  buckles ;  gold  buckles  fast- 
ened the  trousers  at  the  knees;  a  white  silk 
waistcoat,  adorned  with  quantities  of  fine  lawn 
and  lace,  fitted  the  slender  form,  the  lace  of  the 
sleeves  falling  over  the  slender  brown  hand, 
whose  fingers  could  close  upon  a  sword  hilt  with 
a  grip  of  steel.  From  beneath  his  white  silk 
waistcoat,  which  was  partly  open,  fell  the  soft 
folds  of  a  silken  sash,  gold-colored  and  deeply 
fringed  at  each  end,  the  black  velvet  of  his  short 
trousers  throwing  the  yellow  of  his  sash  into 
bold  relief.  He  was  all  things  in  one;  for  to 
night  he  was  the  powdered  and  perfumed  dandy, 


128  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

the  elegant  prince  of  fashion,  seeking  to  appear 
his  best  in  the  eyes  of  his  lady-love,  who  was 
herself  so  dainty  and  fastidious.  He  liked  best 
his  leathern  doublet  and  gaiters,  the  freedom 
of  his  saddle,  and  to  sleep  beneath  the  stars, 
wrapped  in  his  zarape ;  but  it  pleased  her  to  see 
him  in  this  *  array,  and  the  punishment  was  for- 
gotten in  the  opportunity  to  please  her. 

The  contra  danza,  not  unlike  the  square  dance 
of  to-day,  was  forming  as  he  at  last  succeeded 
in  finding  his  young  hostess  and  securing  her  for 
his  partner.  This  native  dance  is  far  more 
graceful  than  ours,  and  the  men  rival  the  women 
in  their  supple  movements.  Captain  Cortez  and 
the  governor's  daughter  whom  he  had  secured 
as  his  partner — a  beautiful  brunette,  gowned  in 
a  stately  brocade  of  pink  satin,  with  garnitures 
of  finest  black  lace  at  neck  and  arms — were  to 
be  the  couple  opposite  the  envoy  and  his  lady. 
As  the  measures  of  the  dance  opened  it  was  a 
rare  sight  to  see  the  dancers  gliding  and  sway- 
ing to  the  sound  of  the  music,  their  pliant  grace 
as  facile  as  grain  bending  before  the  breeze. 
Little  slippers  twinkled  beneath  the  Dona's 
silken  skirts ;  and  the  sinuous  turns  and  undula- 
tions of  her  beautiful  figure  but  deepened  the 
mad  love  of  the  two  men  before  her,  and  for  one 
of  them  she  was  now  dancing.  The  contra 
danza  finished,  X ami  no  and  Don  a  Arguella 
joined  hands  in  the  graceful  measures  of  the 
Spanish  fandango,  much  to  the  chagrin  of  Cap- 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  129 

tain  Cortez,  who  had  already  discerned  the 
Dona's  secret.  Never  had  he  seen  her  move 
with  such  grace  as  to-night ;  never  had  he  seen 
her  beautiful  face  so  radiant  and  her  eyes 
sparkle  like  great  stars;  no  maid  of  the  Orient 
could  have  danced  this  old  dance  of  Moorish 
origin  with  more  native  grace  than  did  the 
happy  Dona  to-night.  Xamino  kept  movement 
in  unison  with  her,  his  slender  form  as  graceful 
as  a  woman's,  a  dull  flame  of  red  glowing  be- 
neath the  olive  of  his  cheek,  his  heart  beating 
high,  for  he  felt  himself  preferred  by  the  beau- 
tiful maid  before  him,  who  filled  all  space,  nay, 
the  universe  itself,  for  him.  The  enraged  cap- 
tain could  no  longer  endure  the  sight  of  his 
rival's  victory,  for  he  read  love  for  the  dark- 
faced  envoy  in  the  fair  Dona's  eyes,  and  when 
his  partner  was  claimed  he  bowed  and  strode 
angrily  from  the  salon.  Fairfax,  the  young 
Virginian  who  had  ridden  a  tilt  with  Xamino 
in  the  tournament,  had  supplanted  Cortez  with 
the  governor's  daughter,  and  his  vanity  was 
stinging  from  the  successive  bruises.  Oortez 
wore,  as  did  the  other  officers  of  the  presidio  and 
fort,  the  full-dress  uniform — white  coats  with  red 
velvet  vests,  red  pantaloons  with  silken  sash, 
or  white  trousers  and  scarlet  coat  faced  with 
green,  a  silken  sash  of  gold  color,  white  silk 
stockings,  and  black  shoes  with  buckles  of  gold. 
A  heavy  scowl  shadowed  his  face  as  he  passed 
out  into  the  night  air  which  was  blowing  in 
sweet  and  fragrant,  through  the  open  windows, 


130  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

fanning  the  cheeks  of  the  good-looking  cabal- 
leros  as  they  paid  court  to  the  charming,  viva- 
cious senoritas. 

When  the  hour  had  arrived  for  the  serving 
of  refreshments,  the  dining-room  door  was 
thrown  open  to  the  liveliest  burst  of  music.  The 
long  table  was  almost  covered  with  its  silver 
service,  and  loaded  with  evidences  of  Dona  Ar- 
guella's  generous  skill,  chicken  with  rice  and 
rich  gravies,  oysters,  tamales,  dulces,  pastries, 
fruits,  and  wines.  The  old  Don,  as  host  to  his 
guests,  was  the  living  portrayal  of  the  Span- 
iard's elegant  and  profuse  hospitality.  Near 
the  close  of  the  supper  the  old  Don  rose  to  his 
feet,  and  from  the  glass  of  wine  he  held  in  his 
hand  he  drank  to  the  prosperity  of  San  Antonio 
and  to  the  long  life  of  Spanish  rule  throughout 
the  province.  The  hostess  turned  her  eyes  to- 
ward her  companion  at  the  board,  Don  Xamino, 
who  was  instantly  upon  his  feet  with  a  response, 
full  of  eloquence,  for  the  continuation  of  such 
delicious  and  irresistible  hospitality  as  he  was 
now  permitted  to  share.  A  curve  of  scorn 
twitched  the  lips  of  Captain  Cortez;  he  hated 
the  envoy,  and  fain  would  cast  a  doubt  upon  his 
sincerity.  He  had  his  suspicions  of  the  young 
grandee  who  stood  so  high  in  the  governor's 
esteem  and  friendship;  but  he  would  bide  his 
time  that,  when  he  did  strike,  he  might  strike 
with  a  heavy  hand.  The  toasts  were  applauded, 
and  as  the  conversation  of  the  guests  became 
gay  and  animated  Dona  Arguella  spoke  in 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  131 

modulated  tones  to  the  attentive  ear  by  her  side. 

i '  Would  you  forsake  Monterey  to  live  in  San 
Antonio,  senor!  You  love  her  so  well." 

He  answered  her  question  by  putting  one  to 
her. 

"Nay,  Dona,  cannot  the  man  of  Monterey  be 
a  true  friend  to  his  Texas  brother,  whether  he 
dwell  in  San  Antonio  or  no?" 

"A  subtle  evasion,  senor.  Have  a  tamale," 
she  replied. 

With  his  tapering  fingers  he  dexterously  lifted 
the  peppered  meat  from  its  bed  of  husks,  ate 
of  it,  and  then  dipping  his  finger  tips  into  the 
bowl  of  water  beside  his  plate,  he  dried  them 
upon  his  napkin  before  he  vouchsafed  a  remark, 
and  when  he  did  so,  it  was  adroitly  to  turn  to- 
ward less  dangerous  ground.  The  Dona  under- 
stood, and  let  the  conversation  drift  whitherso- 
ever he  chose  to  lead ;  but  she  told  herself  it  was 
only  the  true  Mexican  of  high  caste  who  could 
handle  and  dispatch  the  tamale  with  such  deft- 
ness and  neatness  as  did  the  senor. 

"And  some  day  he  will  just  as  swiftly  and 
deftly  dispatch  our  beloved  San  Antonio  out  of 
the  hands  of  the  King's  loyal  subjects  into  a 
Mexican  possession ! ' '  She  felt  it — as  all  highly 
organized  women  can  feel  those  subtle,  strange 
and  unspoken  things,  and  yet  she  loved  him,  al- 
though in  her  heart  of  hearts  she  knew  he  was 
a  spy.  The  consciousness  of  this  remained  with 
her  long  hours  after  her  guests  had  departed, 
and  it  came  back  to  her  the  following  morning 


132  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

when  she  was  awakened  by  the  sound  of  a  mock- 
ing-bird singing  by  her  window  casement;  and 
yet  she  loved  him,  and  had  decked  herself  in 
finest  array  to  please  him.  The  rich  brocade 
of  her  white  and  gold  gown,  with  its  pointed 
bodice,  that  revealed  her  rounded  throat,  had 
enhanced  her  dark  beauty.  She  knew  this,  and 
had  worn  the  dress  for  him ;  nay,  the  strings  of 
gems,  heirlooms  from  old  Spain,  that  she  had 
twined  about  her  throat  and  bare  arms,  were  to 
make  herself  more  beautiful  in  his  eyes;  her 
hair,  piled  high  upon  her  head,  with  loops  over 
her  tiny  ears,  held  in  its  dark  meshes  the  beau- 
tiful Castilian  rose,  and  she  had  worn  it  for 
love's  sake;  her  slippered  feet  were  nimble  and 
light,  and  her  young  blood  was  warm  in  her 
veins,  for  Love  had  crowned  himself  sovereign 
of  her  life. 

She  knew  that  a  horrible  death  would  be 
meted  out  to  him  should  he  ever  be  detected,  and 
the  thought  chilled  the  blood  in  her  veins.  She 
feared  Cortez,  for  whomsoever  his  baleful 
breath  was  blown  upon  was  sure  to  die.  The 
poisoned  wine  of  the  Sacrament,  that  had  taken 
the  life  of  the  good  old  Padre  Gonzalos,  she  well 
knew  had  come  from  the  hand  of  Cortez;  like- 
wise had  death  overtaken  the  little  Mexican 
tamale  vendor,  although  his  bloated  body  had 
been  found  in  the  river,  where  it  was  supposed 
he  had  been  drowned  while  in  bathing.  She  re- 
called the  double  tragedy  out  on  Mendoza  Hill ; 
she  thought  of  the  beautiful  young  Spanish  girl, 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  133 

the  old  woman,  and  the  demolished  home  which 
the  superstitious  villagers  would  not  pass  after 
nightfall — for  they  claimed  it  was  haunted  and 
that  the  spirits  of  the  three  dead  Mendoza  men 
stood  nightly  guard  over  the  funeral  pile  of 
their  old  home. 

She  felt  that  once  he  was  convinced  he  could 
never  win  her,  or  that  her  love  was  given  else- 
where, he  would  adroitly  find  means  to  dispose 
likewise  of  her  rather  than  leave  a  rival  victor 
of  the  field.  She  feared  his  treachery,  which 
moved  stealthily,  in  the  dark.  She  had  caught 
the  baleful  light  in  his  eyes  and  the  sneer  upon 
his  lips  the  night  before  at  the  banquet  table  as 
Xamino  responded  to  her  father's  toast.  Had 
he  read  the  telltale  signs  in  her  happy  face? 
Did  he  know  that  they  were  lovers!  or,  Holy 
Mother!  did  he  guess  the  truth  as  to  Xamino! 
These  thoughts  played  back  and  forth  through 
her  brain  all  the  day  following  the  night  of  the 
tournament  ball.  She  could  not  ostracize  him 
from  her  home,  for  she  and  her  father  were 
Eoyalists  and  the  King's  troops  held  the  town. 
Should  she  do  so  her  father's  life  would  be  in 
jeopardy,  for  it  was  known  that  he  was  not  the 
bitterest  of  enemies  of  the  Eevolutionists ;  she 
must  wait  and  cajole  the  enemy  and  arch  traitor 
until  Xamino  was  safe  from  all  harm. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

For  some  time  Dona  Arguella  had  been  rack- 
ing her  brain  for  a  suggestion  as  to  what  method 
she  should  pursue  with  Captain  Cortez  to  cajole 
him  into  a  more  plastic  mood,  but  the  days 
slipped  by  and  she  was  no  nearer  to  solving  the 
riddle  than  when  it  first  came  to  her. 

Down  at  the  dingy,  soot-covered  barracks  of 
the  presidio  the  captain  was  drinking  heavily 
and  swearing  like  a  mad  pirate  at  every  one  who 
came  near  him.  He  lashed  one  of  his  peons  with 
his  riding  whip  until  the  lad  fell  unconscious 
at  his  feet.  His  offense  had  been  trivial,  but  it 
was  an  opportunity  for  the  volcanic  rage  of  the 
captain  to  vent  itself,  and  he  could  beat  his  own 
slave,  for  there  was  no  one  to  interfere.  He 
frequented  the  coffee-houses  and  other  public 
places  in  the  hope  of  meeting  Axtel  Xamino. 
When  they  did  meet,  he  was  to  pick  a  quarrel 
with  the  Mexican,  then  his  henchmen,  who  fol- 
lowed him  about  closely,  were  to  murder  the 
Mexican  and  then  make  good  their  escape. 

Xamino  was  too  well  trained  to  danger  and 
the  sublety  of  the  treacherous  Spanish  nature 
to  allow  the  riata  to  fall  about  his  neck  easity. 
During  his  supposed  capture  by  the  rebels,  and 
while  he  was  known  in  the  fighting  ranks  as 
Carlos  Lopez,  he  had  stolen  back  into  the  town 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  135 

to  procure  medical  aid  for  his  wounded  friend, 
and  it  was  then  he  learned  from  other  Mexicans 
of  the  tragedy  out  on  Mendoza  Hill,  and  of  the 
captain  seeking  Norveta  and  her  mother  every- 
where. These  facts  had  given  Xamino  an  in- 
sight into  the  captain's  diabolical  nature;  and 
when  he  came  to  San  Antonio  again,  as  his  true 
self,  Axtel  Xamino,  clothed  with  power  as  the 
viceroy's  plenipotentiary  to  the  Governor  of 
Texas,  he  remembered  the  captain's  persecution 
of  Hackett's  friends. 

He  recognized  him  as  the  persecutor  of  Nor- 
veta Mendoza  and  her  mother ;  also,  he  read  his 
love  and  admiration  for  beautiful  Carmaleta 
Arguella.  The  envoy  went  quietly  about  his 
business,  wherever  it  called  him,  but  he  kept 
on  the  alert  for  a  chance  to  avenge  Norveta  and 
her  mother,  and  to  take  redress  from  the  cap- 
tain by  force  for  his  insult  to  the  Dona  in  his 
presuming  to  admire  and  love  her. 

During  these  days  he  was  often  at  the  govern- 
or's  home,  where  he  frequently  met  Fairfax, 
the  young  Virginian  who  rode  the  last  tilt  with 
him  in  the  tournament.  The  young  Englishman 
had  fallen  desperately  in  love  with  the  govern- 
or's pretty  daughter  and  was  paying  assiduous 
court  at  the  shrine  of  her  beauty.  He  and 
Xamino  were  fast  growing  to  be  good  friends 
since  they  had  learned  to  know  each  other  bet- 
ter. The  handsome  envoy  smiled  to  himself  as 
he  saw  the  fair-haired  Englishman  shadowing 
the  old  general's  daughter. 


136  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

"It  is  so  with  them  all,"  he  told  himself,  as 
he  watched  the  pretty  tableau  love  was  playing. 
' '  Something  seems  to  grip  them  here, ' '  striking 
himself  upon  the  breast  as  he  continued  his  men- 
tal self-communion.  "They  say  it  is  a  madness 
for  which  emperors  have  been  dethroned,  and 
empires  have  fallen,  and  that  a  new  light  is  born 
into  the  world,  with  which  men  who  have  the 
disease  have  never  viewed  things  before;  a 
deeper  blue  to  the  sky,  a  softer  murmur  in  the 
waters ;  all  nature  speaks,  and  man  listens  and 
understands. ' ' 

The  memory  of  his  thoughts  lingered  with 
him  long  after  he  had  finished  his  interview  with 
the  governor,  and  they  left  him  not  until  he 
found  himself  by  the  Dona's  side,  the  gloaming 
gathering  about  them  making  all  things  look 
fantastical  with  its  gray,  softened  touch.  On 
the  old  piazza,  with  its  tall  pillars  and  beautiful 
Castilian  roses,  they  sat  talking;  the  voices  of 
the  fast-falling  night  were  about  them ;  and  com- 
ing up  from  a  gypsy  camp  on  the  river  far  below, 
could  be  heard  the  twang  of  guitars  and  the 
singing  of  wild  border  songs;  nearer  by,  from 
the  heart  of  a  great  live-oak  tree,  a  mocking- 
bird was  singing  his  mate  to  sleep ;  the  odor  of 
shrub  and  flower  was  borne  on  the  soft  night 
breeze,  and  the  sound  of  a  whippoorwill,  calling 
from  afar  to  his  mate,  was  lost  in  the  rushing 
waters  of  the  river. 

Xamino's  arm  was  about  her,  and  with  head 
bending  low  he  listened  to  her  every  word  as 


LA    BELLE    SAN   ANTONE  137 

she  told  him  of  her  great  dread  of  the  wicked 
captain.  He  waited  until  she  had  finished,  and 
then,  taking  her  face  between  his  brown  palms, 
he  sought  to  kiss  her  fears  away.  ' '  Carmaleta, 
my  beautiful  love,  do  not  let  your  fears  of  this 
vile  man  cast  a  shadow  before  you ;  leave  him  to 
me ;  I,  Xamino,  who  loves  you  better  than  his 
own  life,  will  protect  you  from  his  treachery. " 

"It  is  not  for  myself  that  I  fear  him,  Axtel; 
it  is  for  you,  you  whom  he  hates  so  bitterly  be- 
cause he  knows  that  I  love  you.  Oh,  Holy 
Mother,  if  I  could  but  get  you  to  understand !" 
There  was  a  wail  of  woe  in  her  voice  as  it  hushed, 
and  she  bowed  her  head  upon  his  arm,  out- 
stretched toward  her,  for  her  heart  was  heavy 
with  forboding  of  approaching  evil. 

Bending  his  head  low,  he  whispered  softly  in 
her  ear,  "Come  out  into  the  court  with  me, 
Carmaleta;  I  have  something  to  tell  you." 

She  lifted  her  head  from  his  arm,  and  as  she 
did  so,  he  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her  lips  and  the 
fair  girlish  face,  then  together  they  went  out  to 
where  the  pomegranate  and  palmetto  trees  were 
growing  thickly  and  casting  their  shadows  upon 
the  ground  by  the  light  of  the  rising  moon.  He 
told  her,  as  he  had  done  so  many  times  before, 
of  the  great  love  for  her  that  filled  his  heart  and 
life,  and  asked  her  to  wed  him,  just  as  many 
other  men  before  him  had  asked  the  woman 
they  love,  and  as  millions  more  would  do  there- 
after. It  was  the  play  of  human  emotions,  as 


138  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

sweet  and  light  as  the  footsteps  of  the  shadows 
that  flit  over  a  field  of  tasseling  corn. 

"You  shall  come  with  me  as  my  bride  to  Mon- 
terey, where  our  home  shall  be  under  the  shade 
of  the  aloes;  there  we  can  be  always  together 
and  our  love  will  make  the  days  long  with  golden 
happiness.  Lift  your  face  to  mine,  Dona,  and 
tell  me  with  your  own  sweet  lips  that  you  love 
me." 

"With  all  my  soul  I  love  you,  Axtel,  and  I 
pray  the  angels  to  protect  you  from  the  wicked 
hatred  of  Captain  Cortez!" 

Her  face  was  upturned  to  his  as  she  spoke, 
and,  stooping,  he  kissed  her  the  kiss  of  betrothal. 
Long  they  talked  of  the  future,  planning  for  the 
many  happy  days  that  stretched  before  them. 
Suddenly  they  were  startled  by  a  stealthy  sound 
near  their  trysting  place,  as  of  a  cautious  foot- 
fall. 

"Caraniba!"  hissed  the  startled  lover,  as  he 
felt  for  the  sheathed  stiletto  within  the  scarlet 
folds  of  his  silken  sash.  Springing  forward 
with  the  knife  tightly  gripped  in  his  hand,  his 
black  eyes  searched  intently  among  the  shadows 
of  the  shrubbery  for  the  intruder.  Only  a  mock- 
ing laugh,  far  away,  sounded  back  to  him.  Dona 
Arguella  heard  the  laugh,  and  her  blood  chilled 
from  the  hate  that  sounded  in  its  tone ;  she  rec- 
ognized the  diabolical  mirth  of  Captain  Cortez 
in  the  mocking  notes. 

Xamino  returned  to  her.  "Some  spy  from 
among  Gutierrez's  band  is  lurking  about  the 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  139 

place !"  said  he,  as  lie  sheathed  his  knife  and  ad- 
justed his  sash. 

"Knowest  thou  not  from  whom  that  laugh 
cometh,  Xarnino  1  I  have  heard  it  before ;  there 
is  no  other  like  it  for  cruelty.  Captain  Cortez 
has  been  so  close  to  us  to-night  that  he  might 
have  slain  both  of  us,  but  he  leaves  that  to  be 
done  when  he  shall  have  chosen  the  way  it  is  to 
be  done." 

Xamino  snatched  her  to  his  bosom  and  kissed 
her  face  and  hands;  they  were  cold  as  of  some 
being  who  had  suffered  a  twinge  of  paralysis. 
His  warm  caresses  wakened  her  from  the  torpor 
of  fear  that  had  seized  her,  and  in  a  sharp  note 
of  inquiry  he  said  "Diabol!  Cortez,  indeed, 
Dona,  do  you  think  I  am  a  man  of  wax,  to  stand 
and  let  any  one  hew  me  down?  I  do  not  fear 
Captain  Cortez;  he  is  a  bully  who  seeks  to 
frighten  old  women  and  young  girls.  Let  him 
seek  to  steal  upon  me  if  he  likes  best  that  mode 
of  attack.  I  know  the  haunts  and  the  habits  of 
the  panther  and  cougar,  and  have  slain  them 
while  they  were  panting  to  lap  my  blood.  To 
vanquish  a  foe  like  that  is  worth  the  steel  in  a 
man 's  knife  and  just  so  shall  I  hunt  the  trail  of 
Cortez.  I  hate  him  for  the  miserable  spawn  to 
which  he  belongs,  for  it  was  from  such  as  he  that 
the  first  shadow  came  into  my  life  by  the  murder 
of  my  father  and  the  breaking  of  my  young 
mother's  heart  because  they  loved  as  you  and  I 
now  love,  my  beautiful  one/  Cortez  will  not  find 


140  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

me  off  guard,  as  they  found  my  poor  young 
father  the  night  he  was  murdered. ' ' 

They  had  returned  to  the  piazza,  and  as  they 
sat  there  in  the  moonlight  he  told  her  the  sad 
story  of  his  young  mother  and  her  murdered 
lover,  to  whom  she  had  been  truly  wed  by  the 
good  old  padre  at  the  mission.  He  told  her  all 
the  agony  he  suffered  when  he  had  been  shown 
the  room  where  his  mother  was  kept  a  prisoner 
until  she  had  given  birth  to  her  babe  and  then 
died ;  he  told  her  of  the  bitter  hatred  that  rose 
up  in  his  heart  when  he  heard  the  story  of  their 
cruel  death,  and  it  was  then  that  Dona  Arguella 
understood  why  he  hated  the  Spaniards  so 
deeply.  She  put  her  arms  about  his  neck,  drew 
his  head  down  until  it  rested  upon  her  shoulder, 
and  with  her  soft  little  hand  she  touched  his 
cheek  lovingly  and  lightly,  as  a  young  mother 
touches  her  first  born.  The  extreme  sorrow 
and  loneliness  of  his  young  life  lent  a  sanctity  to 
her  love  it  had  not  known  before.  While  they 
sat  thus,  Xamino  heard  the  cry  of  a  night  owl. 
He  lifted  his  head  to  listen  better,  and  heard  it 
again.  He  could  not  mistake ;  it  was  Big  Wolf's 
call.  He  answered  back  with  the  call  of  the 
whippoorwill.  Immediately  came  again  the  cry 
of  the  night  owl.  Dona  did  not  understand ;  she 
only  thought  it  some  freakish  notion  that  pos- 
sessed this  child  of  nature  whom  she  loved  so 
dearly.  Soon  Xamino  rose  to  go,  and  as  he 
parted  from  her  he  urged  her  to  sleep  soundly 
and  have  no  more  fears.  She  clung  to  him,  and 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  Hi 

in  pleading  tones  besought  him  not  to  go.  She 
feared  Cortez;  his  mocking  laugh  seemed  to 
her  to  linger  still  about  the  place.  Kissing  her 
tenderly,  he  sprang  over  the  balustrade  of  the 
piazza,  and  was  soon  lost  to  view  beneath  the 
dense  shadow  of  the  live-oaks  growing  in  the 
grounds. 

Xamino's  eyes  were  searching  among  the 
shadows  as  he  moved  along,  for  he  knew  that 
Big  Wolf  was  near  by  and  that  the  Indian's  ap- 
pearance meant  trouble  ahead  for  some  one.  He 
had  not  gone  far  from  the  gates  that  enclosed  the 
old  Don's  private  grounds  when  the  half -nude 
form  of  the  redskin  appeared  in  the  road  before 
him.  Lifting  his  shoulders  and  vigorously  shak- 
ing his  great  bulk  of  dusky  muscle,  the  Indian 
gave  vent  to  the  expressions  common  with  him 
when  wanting  to  fight. 

' '  Boo-er-rer-ooh-boo — ugh — booh !  Fightin ' 
man  hunt  little  brave;  um  slip — slip,"  and 
throwing  himself  to  the  ground  he  began  crawl- 
ing as  though  imitating  the  movement  of  some 
wild  animal  creeping  upon  its  prey.  With  the 
agile  motion  of  the  panther,  he  crept  swiftly 
along  until  he  reached  Xamino's  feet,  then  sud- 
denly springing  erect,  he  threw  his  hand  aloft, 
and  in  his  clutch  he  held  a  long  knife  which  glit- 
tered in  the  rays  of  the  moon.  The  big,  brown 
face  was  distorted  with  a  murderous  look,  as 
he  peered  searchingly  at  Xamino,  their  brows 
almost  touching.  The  Mexican  watched  his 
movements  with  no  thought  of  fear,  for  he  was 


142  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

accustomed  to  the  Indian's  talking  by  signs,  and 
knew  that  he  was  trying  to  make  himself  under- 
stood in  regard  to  some  imminent  danger  which, 
in  some  way,  Xamino  felt,  must  concern  himself. 
Big  Wolf  lowered  the  knife  as  suddenly  as  he 
had  lifted  it,  and  pointed  with  the  blade  toward 
the  presidio.  Xamino  understood,  and  reaching 
forth  his  hand  he  patted  the  big  brown  arm  with 
a  gentle  touch.  A  jumble  of  Indian  and  Mexican 
jargon  followed  for  a  few  moments  between  the 
two,  and  then  they  separated,  Big  Wolf  drawing 
back  into  the  shadow  of  the  live-oaks  from 
whence  he  had  come,  and  Xamino  proceeding 
upon  his  way  to  his  hotel,  every  nerve  on  the 
alert  for  any  lurking  danger  along  his  way 


CHAPTER   XV 

The  Montezuma  Hotel,  which  stood  within  the 
shadow  of  the  governor's  house,  was  the  favor- 
ite abiding  place  of  Xamino  when  in  San  An- 
tonio, rather  than  the  rooms  offered  him  at  the 
Alcalde's  home.  Its  threshold  was  worn  and 
hacked,  and  the  facade  was  weather-stained  and 
battle-scarred,  for  the  hostelry  had  done  good 
service  since  the  first  settling  of  the  French  and 
Spanish  emigrants  of  the  town.  It  was  not  only 
the  oldest  but  the  best  tavern  in  the  place,  and 
its  walls  had  known  many  strange  things, 
strange  and  terrible,  for  it  had  been  a  favorite 
with  Eoyalists  and  Revolutionists  alike. 

It  was  a  full  and  a  half  story,  built  of  hewn 
logs,  and  had  been  added  to  at  different  times, 
as  the  years  passed  by,  until  it  had  become  a 
rambling,  ill-shaped  but  commodious  place.  An 
outer  coating  of  stucco,  put  on  adobe  fashion, 
had  fallen  away  in  many  places,  and  gave  it  a 
scarred,  dilapidated  air;  but  the  beds,  for  the 
most  part,  were  clean  and  the  rooms  airy  and 
cool  in  summer.  The  culinary  was  a  mongrel 
hatch  to  suit  the  palate  of  the  American,  Mexi- 
can, and  Spaniard  alike,  for  the  place  was  cos- 
mopolitan in  its  gathering  of  guests;  its  bar 
boasted  pulque  and  pure  corn  oil ;  and  its  guests 
ate,  drank,  slept,  paid  their  bills  in  Spanish 


144  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

coin,  and  then  did  what  they  pleased.  Buc- 
caneers and  freebooters  from  the  port  of  Ana- 
huac,  at  the  head  of  Galveston  Bay,  whose 
waters  floated  the  dark  crafts  of  Lafitte,  the 
pirate,  made  this  their  stopping  place ;  and  Mex- 
ican and  American  drovers,  who  chased  and 
gathered  in  cavayards,  wild  mustang  ponies, 
for  the  Louisiana  and  San  Antonio  markets, 
drank  and  ate  at  the  tavern's  genial  board,  and 
played  at  the  games  of  rouge-et-noir  and  trente- 
et-quarante,  regardless  of  the  lengthening  hours 
running  the  days  and  nights  into  one.  But  at 
the  little  tavern  there  was  being  played  a  much 
deeper  game  than  that  of  rouge-et-noir  or  faro. 
Xamino  had  his  reason  for  stopping  at  the  place, 
for  it  was  here  that  he  could  more  easily  receive 
and  send  messages  to  the  outlawed  Revolution- 
ist leaders. 

As  he  entered  the  hotel  after  his  parting  with 
Big  Wolf  near  the  old  Spaniard's  home,  he  felt 
himself  rudely  jostled  aside  by  the  protruding 
elbow  of  a  bulky,  dark-bearded  Spaniard,  in 
blue  hunting  shirt,  high  boots,  and  short 
trousers  of  undressed  deer  skin.  He  threw  his 
hand  to  his  dirk  knife  in  his  belt,  and  let  loose 
a  volley  of  oaths  at  being  run  into. 

"Pardon,  senor,"  replied  Xamino,  as  he 
stepped  aside  and  passed  on  into  the  bar-room, 
not  forgetting  to  keep  watch  of  the  Spaniard 
who,  he  felt,  was  following  him. 

Xamino  passed  through  the  straggling  crowd 
about  the  bar,  and  entered  the  gambling  room. 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  145 

He  saw  Captain  Cortez,  in  company  with  three 
rough-looking  unkempt  Spaniards,  seated  at  the 
faro  table,  apparently  absorbed  in  the  game  be- 
fore him.  As  Xamino  passed  close  to  the  table, 
Cortez  looked  up,  and  the  envoy  met  the  baleful 
glare  of  hate  in  his  blood-shot  eyes  with  cool  in- 
difference, paused  for  a  moment  and  carelessly 
scanned  the  crowd  seated  at  the  different  gamb- 
ling tables.  But  in  truth  he  was  on  the  alert  for 
Cortez  to  make  some  overture  for  an  attack, 
and  was  also  on  the  watch  for  the  Spaniard  he 
had  met  at  the  threshold,  who  advanced  and  was 
now  standing  by  the  table  where  Captain  Cortez 
and  his  friends  were  playing  cards.  Finding 
that  no  one  accosted  him,  Xamino  turned  away, 
and  as  he  did  so  he  saw  Fairfax,  the  Virginian, 
and  a  couple  of  American  drovers,  seated  at  a 
card  table  at  the  further  end  of  the  room.  Xam- 
ino walked  over  to  the  table  where  the  three 
men  sat  playing.  Fairfax  greeted  him  with 
friendship  and  extended  to  him  an  invitation 
to  join  in  the  game. 

"The  other  senors  wish  it  too!"  questioned 
Xamino,  as  he  turned  toward  the  drovers.  ' '  You 
bet,  scout,  slip  into  the  game,"  they  said,  and 
made  room  for  him  at  the  table,  Xamino  seat- 
ing himself  where  he  could  have  full  view  of  all 
that  was  going  on  in  the  room.  He  had  not  been 
long  in  the  game  with  his  American  friends  when 
he  saw  more  drinks  ordered  for  Cortez 's  table; 
but  he  played  on,  quietly  keeping  watch  on  the 
game  before  him,  and  likewise  upon  Cortez  and 


116  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

his  partners,  ruffians  like  many  of  the  others 
present,  who  had  remained  in  town  for  a  week's 
sport  after  the  tournament  and  the  bull  fight, 
members  of  Lafitte's  band,  whose  happy  hunt- 
ing ground  was  the  Spanish  Main,  off  Bolivar 
Point,  and  burying  their  treasures  in  the  deep 
sand,  had  left  their  low,  rakish  crafts  sheltered 
in  the  deep  channel,  which  was  maintained  by 
the  natural  scour  of  the  tides,  to  indulge  in  a 
fortnight's  reveling  at  old  San  Antonio,  above 
the  forks  of  the  rivers. 

Hardly  had  Xamino  joined  in  the  game  at 
Fairfax's  table,  when  Big  Wolf  entered  the 
hotel  bar-room,  with  a  haunch  of  venison  upon 
his  shoulder,  which  he  tendered  the  tavern 
keeper  as  a  gift  of  friendship.  With  a  genial 
grin,  the  landlord  poured  a  glass  of  whisky  and 
handed  it  to  the  Indian,  in  exchange  for  the 
venison. 

Big  Wolf  gulped  the  whisky  down  and  moved 
back  from  the  bar.  He  looked  all  about  the  room 
and  then  appeared  for  a  moment  at  the  door  of 
the  gambling  room.  Only  for  a  moment,  but 
long  enough  to  see  Xamino 's  face  beneath  the 
rim  of  his  sombrero,  as  he  sat  among  the  Amer- 
icans at  the  card  table,  then  he  paused  just  out- 
side the  door-way.  Eesting  his  back  against  the 
wall,  and  with  arms  crossed  over  his  chest,  he 
quietly  kept  watch  upon  Cortez  and  his  com- 
panions, whose  every  move  was  visible  to  him 
through  the  open  door,  while  those  seeing  him 
standing  thus  thought  him  to  be  watching  the 
crowd  and  the  gambling,  with  no  intent  to  harm 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  147 

any  one.  Xamino  was  engaged  in  shuffling  and 
dealing  the  cards  for  another  game,  when  the 
bulky  Spaniard  who  had  accosted  him  at  the  door- 
way, approached  Fairfax's  table,  and,  with 
abusive  epithets  directed  toward  Xamino  for 
cowardice,  sought  to  provoke  a  quarrel.  Xam- 
ino knew  it  was  but  the  signal  for  the  fight  to 
begin,  and  that  the  hirelings  of  Cortez  would 
seek  him,  but  it  brought  a  thrill  of  satisfaction 
to  his  soul  as  he  thought  of  seeing  the  hated 
Spanish  blood  flow,  though  his  own  life  be  the 
forfeit.  Hardly  had  the  insult  been  given,  when 
one  of  the  drovers  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  with 
his  heavy  wooden  chair  floored  the  intruder 
upon  his  card  game.  A  volley  of  oaths,  hisses, 
and  the  clashing  of  knives  instantly  followed, 
the  half -intoxicated  crowd  all  joining  in  the 
melee.  Cortez  pushed  the  two  men  forward 
with  the  admonition,  "Do  your  work  well, 
senors,  and  the  gold  is  yours !"  Then  lifting 
his  voice  above  that  of  the  yelling  crowd,  he 
cried  out, l  i  The  Mexican  is  a  spy !  He  is  here  to 
seek  news  for  the  revolutionist  camps!  Down 
with  the  traitor!" 

The  noise  in  the  gambling-room  had  attracted 
the  crowd  in  the  front  part  of  the  tavern,  who 
came  in  a  rush  to  the  scene,  all  eager  to  take  a 
hand  in  the  fight,  and  with  them  came  Big  Wolf. 

There  was  an  instant's  pause  at  the  sound  of 
Cortez 's  voice,  only  for  an  instant,  and  then  the 
wily  captain  saw  the  enraged  crowd  closing  in 
on  Xamino  and  the  three  Americans  who  had 


148  LA    BELLE    SAN   ANTONE 

backed  themselves  against  the  wall,  and  with 
their  long-bladed  hunting  knives  and  holsters 
were  defending  themselves  from  the  drunken 
Spaniards,  in  whom  the  lust  for  blood  had  been 
aroused.  The  wily  captain  waited  until  he  saw 
the  enraged  mob  closing  in  upon  the  man  he 
hated,  and  then,  amidst  the  upsetting  of  the 
tables  and  wooden  stools,  he  made  his  exit 
through  the  nearest  door,  feeling  sure  that  his 
enemy  would  be  removed  out  of  his  way,  with 
such  terrible  odds  against  him,  and  at  the  same 
time  making  sure  of  his  own  safety.  The  lights 
had  been  overturned,  and  only  a  dim  tallow  dip, 
ensconced  in  a  niche  in  the  wall,  was  left  to  feebly 
light  the  room,  throwing  its  flickering  flame  over 
the  surging  crowd  of  drunken,  heavily  armed 
men. 

Cool,  sagacious,  and  self-collected,  Xamino 
fought  with  deadly  aim,  his  long  steel  blade 
bringing  the  death  cry  from  every  antagonist 
who  assailed  him,  as  also  did  Fairfax  and  the 
herdsmen.  The  Mexican  kept  an  eager  watch 
by  the  dim  light  of  the  tallow  candle  for  the  face 
of  his  hated  enemy,  but  the  captain  was  safe  be- 
yond harm's  way.  In  vain  did  the  crowd  seek 
to  rout  Fairfax  and  his  party  from  the  shelter  of 
the  darkened  corner,  but  the  wall  served  as  a  bar- 
ricade of  protection  to  their  backs  from  the  sly 
Spaniards'  sneaking  knives.  Just  as  Xamino 
was  engaged  in  a  fierce  battle  with  two  antagon- 
ists, he  saw  a  third  one  bearing  down  upon  him, 
holding  his  long  dirk  poised  in  mid  air,  ready 


LA   BELLE    SAN   ANTONE  149 

to  strike.  As  he  realized  the  odds  were  turning 
against  him,  he  heard  a  savage  growl,  and  at  the 
same  instant  Big  Wolf  sheathed  his  knife  in 
the  breast  of  the  oncoming  assailant.  The  In- 
dian jerked  his  knife  back  from  the  breast  of 
his  reeling  victim,  sprang  across  the  interven- 
ing space  and,  with  his  back  to  the  wall,  stood 
beside  ' '  Little  Brave, ' '  facing  the  now  fast  thin- 
ning crowd.  One  of  the  herdsmen  had  fallen 
from  a  knife  thrust  in  the  side,  but  the  other  one 
and  Fairfax  were  yet  unharmed,  and  with  the 
table  for  a  barricade  to  protect  their  wounded 
friend,  beat  back  their  assailants. 

The  scene  was  appalling  when  the  fight  was 
over,  for  the  floor  was  covered  with  blood,  and 
ha]f  a  score  of  men  lay  dead,  while  several  were 
severely  wounded.  Fairfax  urged  Xamino  to 
come  with  him  away  from  the  hotel,  but  the  Mex- 
ican doggedly  refused  to  be  influenced  by  the 
American  in  quitting  his  place  of  abode.  There 
was  a  gruesome  funeral  procession  the  follow- 
ing day,  but  the  incident  was  soon  forgotten  by 
the  occurrence  of  others  of  similar  nature,  each 
one  crowding  the  other  out  of  mind.  So  fre- 
quently did  these  desperate  fights  and  murders 
about  the  gambling  tables  of  San  Antonio  occur 
during  these  days  that  but  little  heed  was  given 
them.  Royalty  was  making  her  last  desperate 
struggle  to  maintain  her  own  under  the  King's 
crown,  but  crowds  of  filibustering  Americans 
and  Mexican  revolutionists  were  slowly  obliter- 
ating the  Spanish  element,  save  the  conscript 


150  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

soldiery  from  Spain  and  the  last  remaining 
homes  of  the  old-time,  landed  Spanish  aristo- 
cracy, a  society  which  preserved  the  traditions 
of  Spanish  luxury  and  hospitality.  Through 
the  governor,  Xamino  succeeded  in  awakening 
a  renewed  interest  in  the  gold  mines,  and  it  was 
at  this  time  that  the  famous  old  San  Saba  gold 
mines  were  most  extensively  worked.  Many  of 
the  soldiery  deserted  from  the  presidio  to  seek 
the  dark,  shadowy  arroyos,  in  quest  of  the  glit- 
tering metal,  some  perishing  in  the  mines,  and 
others,  more  successful  in  their  daring  venture, 
stealing  aboard  the  Spanish  galleons  in  the 
waters  of  the  Gulf,  and  returning  to  Old  Spain 
with  their  coveted  gold. 

Before  the  arrival  of  the  time  for  Xamino 's 
recall  to  the  City  of  Mexico,  he  had  forwarded 
his  resignation  of  the  post  as  special  envoy,  and, 
like  Caesar,  "with  that  love  for  the  light  that 
lies  in  woman's  eyes,"  he  spent  the  days  by  the 
side  of  his  fair  young  wife,  within  the  sanctuary 
of  their  own  home,  far  away  in  the  picturesque 
old  town  of  Monterey. 

The  wickedly  handsome  Cortez,  foiled  in  his 
effort  to  destroy  his  rival,  who  had  won  the  prize 
for  which  he  was  risking  so  much,  gave  his  life 
over  to  debauchery,  revelry,  and  gambling.  He 
became  imbued  with  the  lust  for  gold,  like  many 
around  him,  and  would  absent  himself  from  the 
fort  on  long  rambles  up  and  down  the  shallow 
ravines,  and  sometimes  reaching  out  to  the  dark- 
ening arroyos. 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  151 

While  indulging  in  one  of  his  solitary  pros- 
pecting tours,  keeping  ever  on  the  alert  for  some 
stray  band  of  guerrillas,  he  spied  the  form  of  a 
man  walking  cautiously  through  the  low,  scrub 
growth  of  chaparral  growing  near  the  brink  of 
the  ravine  which  he  himself  was  ascending. 
Seeing  that  he  had  not  been  discovered,  he  step- 
ped behind  a  tree,  and  proceeded  to  watch  the 
man's  movements.  He  saw  him  turn  into  the 
ravine,  and  knew  the  path  or  trail  he  was  fol- 
lowing would  lead  him  directly  his  way.  He  was 
right;  the  man  passed  so  close  to  his  hiding- 
place  that  he  could  have  touched  the  butt  of  his 
rifle.  The  turning  of  a  loose  stone  under  the 
man 's  foot  careened  him  in  his  course  and  as  he 
reeled,  staggering  and  half  falling,  he  lost  his 
hold  upon  his  rifle,  and  from  the  wide  pocket  on 
the  breast  of  the  rough  hunting  shirt  fell  a 
shower  of  golden  nuggets. 

When  he  reached  for  his  rifle,  and  sought  to 
raise  himself,  he  found  the  muzzle  of  a  gun  look- 
ing him  in  the  face.  The  Spanish  officer  was 
bending  over  him  with  a  murderous  expression 
in  his  baleful  eyes.  The  man  left  his  gun  lying 
where  it  fell,  but  reached  for  his  nuggets  of 
gold. 

"Hold!"  commanded  the  officer,  in  subdued 
but  decisive  tones,  and  again  the  man  remained 
passive.  '  '  Where  did  you  get  these  ? ' '  The  man 
kicked  the  dry  leaves  and  rattled  the  small 
stones,  indicating  that  he  had  found  them  upon 
the  surface.  "  You  lie !  This  is  the  King's  gold 


152  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

you  are  stealing.  Tell  me  where  you  found  it, 
and  I  will  see  that  you  are  not  imprisoned  for 
the  theft." 

The  man  turned  a  defiant  face  toward  his  cap- 
tor, exulting  in  the  knowledge  that  his  secret 
was  his  own  and  no  one  could  wrest  it  from  him. 

"Speak  up,  or  by  the  blood  of  the  Holy 
Mother,  I  will  riddle  your  carcass!  You  are 
stealing  from  the  Pope  and  from  the  Crown. 
Show  me  the  lead  where  these  were  found  or, 
as  a  loyal  subject  of  His  Majesty,  I  shall  slay 
you  for  the  outrage. ' ' 

"To  hell  with  the  Pope  and  the  Crown!  It 
is  mine  and  no  man  shall  take  it  from  me, ' '  the 
man  replied,  and  reaching  for  his  hunting  knife 
he  sought  to  spring  to  his  feet  and  defend  him- 
self, but  a  swift- speeding  bullet  from  the  offi- 
cer's gun  struck  him  in  the  breast  and  he  fell 
once  again  to  the  ground,  but  this  time  it  was- 
with  a  death  groan.  Stooping  over  his  victim, 
the  officer  picked  up  the  bright  golden  nuggets, 
muttering  as  he  did  so,  "I  was  a  fool  to  slay 
him ;  the  secret  dies  with  him ! "  A  covetous  light 
shone  in  his  face  as  he  pocketed  the  specimens 
and  looked  through  his  victim's  clothes  for 
more,  or  better  still  for  some  chart  or  map  that 
might  lead  him  to  the  discovery  of  the  mine. 
Finding  nothing  he  gave  the  body,  now  stiffen- 
ing in  death,  a  kick  with  the  toe  of  his  boot,  and, 
turning,  walked  back  toward  the  presidio.  An 
hour  later  a  half -nude  Indian  passed  down  the 
same  ravine  and  stumbled  over  the  form  that  lay 


LA   BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  153 

across  the  trail.  He  drew  back  a  step,  then 
quickly  advancing  examined  the  face  of  the 
dead  man.  Then  he  suddenly  stood  erect,  his 
motions  swift  but  noiseless.  He  had  recognized 
the  dead  man,  for  they  had  hunted  through  the 
woods  and  went  trapping  upon  the  river  to- 
gether. The  dead  man  was  San  Pedro  Cotulla, 
the  old  man  who  lived  with  his  wife  in  the  grove 
by  the  "gushing  waters,"  and  the  Indian  was 
Big  Wolf,  who  started  immediately  upon  the 
trail  of  the  one  who  had  slain  his  old  comrade. 
So  close  was  he  at  times  upon  the  heels  of  Cortez 
that  the  grass  blades,  bending  beneath  his  tread, 
were  just  lifting  their  heads  as  he  passed.  The 
blood  surged  and  throbbed  in  the  Indian's  neck 
veins  as  he  eagerly  hastened  forward  to  catch 
his  prey ;  but  the  wily  captain  got  safely  within 
the  Spanish  lines. 

"This  time  miss  'em,  some  day  git  'em,"  Big 
Wolf  said  to  himself  as  he  sat  alone  in  his  hut 
roasting  his  meat  and  corn  pone  in  the  red-hot 
embers. 

Cortez  had  halted  on  his  way  from  the  scene 
of  his  crime  to  examine  a  ledge  of  rock  which 
held  some  traces  of  mineral.  He  had  barely 
finished  and  passed  on  his  way,  when  Big  Wolf 
came  upon  his  trail.  When  the  officer  heard  the 
crackling  of  the  dry  undergrowth,  he  turned 
quickly  to  look  back  over  the  way  he  had  come. 
Like  a  shadow,  Big  Wolf  had  flitted  behind  a 
tree,  but  in  that  brief  moment  he  had  caught 
sight  of  the  Spaniard's  face  and  recognized  him. 


154  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTON E 

He  had  followed  the  trail  closely  since  first  tak- 
ing it  up  beside  the  body  of  the  murdered  man, 
and  he  knew  he  was  on  the  right  track,  and  he 
felt,  as  he  recognized  the  man  he  was  trailing, 
that  now  he  would  be  able  to  settle  a  double 
grudge,  for  the  man  he  was  following  was  the 
same  he  had  caught  tracking  "Little  Brave," 
the  same  for  whom  he  and  Xamino  had  searched 
among  the  dead  and  wounded  in  the  gambling 
room  of  the  Montezuma  Hotel. 

Cortez  had  not  seen  the  Indian  flit  behind  the 
tree,  but  he  felt  a  queer,  creepy  sensation  sweep 
over  him  as  he  turned  and  pursued  his  course. 
He  had  not  gone  far  when  he  felt,  by  some  power 
of  intuition,  that  he  was  being  tracked;  a  chill 
crept  through  the  blood  in  his  veins  and  he 
quickened  his  steps.  Even  the  rustling  of  the 
dry  leaves  beneath  his  feet  seemed  an  ominous 
sound  to  his  strained  and  listening  ear.  Occa- 
sionally he  cast  a  furtive  glance  over  his  shoul- 
der. When  within  sight  of  the  fort  he  felt  more 
secure,  but  Big  Wolf,  fearing  he  was  about  to 
lose  his  prey,  pressed  eagerly  forward.  In  one 
of  his  backward  glances  Cortez  caught  sight  of 
the  flitting  shadow,  for  the  night  shades  were 
beginning  to  gather.  Eather  than  turn  and  fire 
his  gun  in  the  face  of  his  pursuer,  he  ran  swiftly 
in  the  direction  of  the  fort.  Big  Wolf  slackened 
his  speed,  as  he  saw  they  were  near  the  picket 
lines  of  the  Spanish  troops,  and  turning  away, 
was  soon  lost  in  the  thick  shadow  of  the  woods, 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  155 

making  his  way  toward  the  home  of  the  man  who 
lay  dead  far  up  in  the  lonely  ravine. 

He  found  the  old  Senora  Cotulla,  and  told  her 
where  San  Pedros  lay  dead,  with  a  bullet  in  his 
heart,  far  up  in  the  dry  bed  of  the  ravine.  The 
old  senora  fell  ill  the  same  day  she  heard  of  her 
great  loss,  but  before  she  lost  consciousness 
she  told  Big  Wolf  the  location  of  the  mine,  if 
he  would,  in  exchange  for  the  gift,  go  up  in  the 
gulch  and  bury  the  body  of  her  dead,  that  the 
wild  beasts  infesting  the  woods  might  not  de- 
vour the  body. 

The  Indian  was  true  to  his  word,  but  when  he 
went  back  in  search  of  the  body  he  found  only  a 
few  fragments  left.  These  he  gathered  up,  and 
carrying  them  to  a  cave  near  by,  he  placed  them 
within,  and  then  rolled  a  stone  before  the  open- 
ing, thus  closing  the  mouth  of  the  cave. 

After  Captain  Cortez  felt  his  timidity  vanish 
and  had  regained  his  courage,  he  returned  to 
the  scene  of  his  crime  to  search  for  the  lead  to 
the  mine,  from  whence  came  the  yellow  nuggets 
which  he  carried  as  a  talisman.  Big  Wolf  like- 
wise hunted  the  same  locality.  When  his  hand 
was  just  about  to  grasp  the  coveted  gold,  Cortez 
found  himself  suddenly  confronted  by  a  huge 
Indian,  who  seemed  to  have  risen  up  directly 
out  of  the  ground.  The  wrath  of  an  angered 
Mars  shone  in  the  face  of  the  Indian  as  he  ob- 
structed the  Spaniard's  way. 

"Down,  you  Indian  dog,  and  let  me  pass!" 
commanded  the  imperious  officer,  unsheathing 


156  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

his  short  sword  as  he  spoke.  Big  Wolf's  long 
hunting  knife  flashed  into  sight  instantly,  and 
he  gave  his  assailant  no  time  to  retreat.  Almost 
without  a  moment's  warning  the  two  men  closed 
in  deadly  combat,  their  bodies  swaying  as  they 
each  struggled  for  the  victory.  The  lithe, 
sinewy  form  of  the  Spaniard,  with  his  military 
knowledge  of  handling  the  short  sword,  made 
him  no  mean  antagonist  for  the  bronze  Hercules 
with  whom  he  was  struggling. 

Alone,  in  the  heart  of  the  woods,  they  fought 
the  bitter  fight  out  to  the  death,  and  when  it  was 
finished,  Big  Wolf  stood  erect,  with  an  exultant 
smile  upon  his  lips  and  in  his  hand  the  bleeding 
scalp  of  Antone  Cortez,  the  scion  of  a  house  of 
Spanish  nobles.  The  carcass  was  left  to  rot 
where  it  had  fallen,  or  to  be  devoured  by  the 
wild  beasts  that  prowled  through  the  woods. 
The  old  Senora  Cotulla  lived  to  see  the  bloody 
scalp  of  the  fiend  who  had  murdered  her  old 
mate,  and  then  she  turned  her  face  from  the 
world,  making  no  struggle  against  death,  which 
soon  released  her  spirit  from  its  worn,  weary 
old  body.  She  was  buried  by  Big  Wolf's  re- 
quest under  a  noble  live-oak,  near  one  of  the  big 
springs  which  had  been  the  pride  of  old  San 
Pedro.  The  priest  who  had  administered  to 
her  the  last  rites  of  the  Church,  and  Big  Wolf, 
were  the  only  mourners,  the  Indian  carving  the 
sign  of  the  crucifix  upon  the  bark  of  the  tree 
with  his  hunting  knife.  The  old  cabin  among 
the  trees  was  closed,  its  meager  furnishings  go- 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  157 

ing  to  the  priest  for  his  services  and  care  for 
the  dead.  The  following  day  Big  Wolf,  after 
stamping  out  the  fire  on  the  hearth  of  his  old 
nmd  hut,  took  his  way  across  the  river,  then 
turned  his  face  toward  Hackett 's  hacienda  on 
the  Nueces  Eiver.  Some  days  later  he  made 
his  appearance  at  the  ranch  and  was  accorded 
a  glad  welcome  by  both  Hackett  and  his  wife. 
Changes  had  visited  them  since  Big  Wolf's  last 
visit  to  their  home.  The  fiery  spirit  of  old 
Emanuella  Mendoza  had  been  quenched  in 
death;  and  playing  about  Norveta's  feet  and 
clinging  to  her  skirts  was  a  tiny  little  girl  baby, 
with  black  eyes  and  silken  black  locks,  bearing  the 
same  name  as  her  old  ancestress  who  slept  be- 
neath the  big  pecan  tree  in  the  garden  near  the 
house. 

With  pride  Big  Wolf  showed  the  scalp  of  Cor- 
tez  to  Hackett  and  his  wife.  Norveta  came  for- 
ward and  looked  upon  the  ghastly  trophy,  a  feel- 
ing of  awe  and  repugnance  filling  her  soul.  It 
was  the  same  silky,  slightly  wavy  black  hair.  A 
lock  that  had  not  been  matted  with  blood  lifted 
itself  at  the  touch  of  the  breeze,  and  seemed  to 
speak  to  her,  as  if  beckoning  her  in  greeting. 
She  drew  back,  horrified  at  the  sight.  "And 
yet,"  she  wondered,  "after  all,  might  he  not 
have  found  pardon  to  some  degree  for  his 
crimes,  and  may  not  death  have  cleansed  him  of 
much  of  his  wrongdoing  while  on  earth?" 

Hackett  held  her  closer  in  his  arms  as  she 
told  him,  when  they  were  alone,  of  the  horror 


158  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

that  filled  her  soul  at  the  sight  of  the  ghastly 
thing  that  Big  Wolf  carried  at  his  belt.  He 
promised  her  the  sight  should  annoy  her  no 
longer,  and  seeking  the  Indian,  who  sat  beneath 
the  shade  of  the  big  trees  in  the  yard,  playing 
with  the  little  mistress  of  the  hacienda,  Hackett 
asked  him  for  the  gruesome  object  that  was  giv- 
ing his  wife  so  much  misery.  Together  they 
buried  the  trophy  in  an  out  of  the  way  spot,  and 
thus  removed  for  all  time  all  trace  of  the  body 
of  Antone  Cortez.  The  Indian  was  willing,  for 
he  realized  the  Great  Spirit  now  held  their  old 
enemy,  and  he  could  no  longer  roam  the  earth  to 
do  them  bodily  harm. 

Big  Wolf  did  not  return  to  San  Antonio,  but 
made  his  home  at  Hackett 's  ranch,  going  at 
times  to  visit  the  tribes  of  Indians  who  were 
friendly  to  the  * '  Big  Sachem. '  >  He  taught  them 
the  rites  of  the  Eoman  Catholic  religion,  and 
the  meaning  of  the  crucifix  at  his  neck,  which 
he  no  longer  disgraced  by  carrying  the  scalps 
of  victims  at  his  belt. 

In  Mexico  the  fire  of  the  revolution  was 
smouldering  and  breaking  into  a  flame  in  many 
places.  The  city  of  Monterey  was  one  of  the 
northern  strongholds,  and  our  old  friend  Axtel 
Xamino  had  been  chosen  as  one  of  their  com- 
mandants. 

A  dashing  young  lieutenant-colonel,  Antonio 
Lopez  de  Santa  Anna,  had  left  the  Spanish  army 
and  joined  hands  with  Iturbide  in  the  South. 
He  was  about  five  feet  five  inches  in  height,  of 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  159 

spare  form,  and  dark  complexioned ;  his  man- 
ners were  pleasing  and  insinuating  when  he 
chose  to  make  them  so,  and  his  force  of  char- 
acter was  manifested  in  his  speech  and  gestures. 
In  habits  and  tastes  he  was  a  thorough  Mexican, 
his  favorite  amusements  cock-fighting  and  card- 
playing.  He  was  full  of  restless  energy  and  am- 
bition, and  ofttimes  the  exuberance  of  his 
animal  spirits  found  vent  in  forms  of  dissipa- 
tion that  gave  promise  of  low,  notorious  per- 
sonal vices  for  the  man  when  he  had  grown 
older.  His  ambition  made  him  in  later  life  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  figures  that  ever  ap- 
peared in  the  history  of  the  American  continent. 


CHAPTEB   XVI 

Under  the  blaze  of  the  summer  sun  and  the 
rattling  sleet  of  the  winter  blizzards,  the  old 
town  above  the  forks  of  the  rivers  droned  away 
the  passing  years,  which  marked  themselves 
with  much  of  the  same  vicissitudes  that  had 
characterized  the  place  since  its  first  founding 
as  a  Spanish  settlement.  Its  military,  main- 
tained for  the  protection  of  the  missions  of  the 
Franciscan  friars  that  had  been  erected  from 
time  to  time  along  the  valley  of  the  San  Antonio 
river,  was  a  perpetual  drain  on  the  old  mother 
country;  the  mineral  riches  had  done  more  for 
the  interior,  and  northwestern  district,  than  for 
the  coast  countries;  civilization  in  Bexar  had 
retrograded  rather  than  advanced,  until  it 
merely  constituted  an  outlying  and  rural  pro- 
vince of  Mexico.  The  American  settlements  in 
Nacogdoches  had  been  dominated  by  a  lawless 
element  of  criminal  refugees,  who  had  found  an 
Alsatia  in  the  neutral  ground  beyond  the  Sabine 
Eiver  lying  between  the  boundaries  of  the 
United  States  and  Mexico.  It  was  a  favorite 
retreat  for  the  desperate  outlaws  of  the  South- 
west, for  once  beyond  the  muddy  waters  of  the 
Sabine,  they  were  safe  from  all  molestation,  let 
their  crime  be  ever  so  heinous. 

The  rich  fields  in  the  broad  valley,  flowered 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  161 

with  tall  maize,  were  overgrown  with  rank  grass 
and  mesquite  bushes.  The  irrigating  ditches 
were  choked  with  gathering  accretions  and  no 
longer  served  the  purpose  of  fertilizing  the 
beautiful  valley.  The  immense  crucifix  sur- 
mounting the  old  church  of  San  Fernando,  be- 
tween the  Main  and  Military  Plazas,  reared  its 
head  aloft,  distinctly  outlined  against  the  in- 
tensely blue  sky.  Across  the  river,  about  three- 
fourths  of  a  mile  away,  vividly  outlined  by  the 
Italian-like  sky,  could  also  be  seen  the  crucifix 
surmounting  the  Mission  of  San  Antonio  de 
Valges,  or  the  Alamo,  with  its  church,  convent, 
and  walled  in  closure.  These,  with  the  valley 
missions  that  were  fast  falling  into  a  state  of  de- 
cay, were  almost  all  that  the  fragmentary  Span- 
ish army  could  now  be  said  to  have  need  of  de- 
fending. All  other  Spanish  interests  were  de- 
cidedly on  the  decline.  The  inhabitants  were 
almost  altogether  Mexicans,  with  a  few  Ameri- 
can traders  who  dealt  in  peltry,  which  they  gave 
in  exchange  for  supplies,  brought  by  the  cara- 
vans from  New  Orleans  or  by  the  way  of  Nacog- 
doches.  The  savage  attacks  of  the  Comanches 
and  Apaches  had  driven  the  friars  from  their 
missions  in  the  valley  to  seek  safety  in  Mexico, 
but  they  professed  a  nominal  friendship  for  the 
people  in  the  town,  and  frequented  the  place  for 
trade,  conducting  themselves  with  a  barbaric- 
insolence,  invading  houses  and  helping  them- 
selves to  whatever  they  fancied,  and  finding  no 
resistance  from  the  inmates. 


162  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

With  the  settling  of  Austin's  colony,  between 
the  Brazos  and  Colorado  rivers, — an  uninhabited 
wilderness, — began  the  real  growth  and  pros- 
perity of  the  American  element  of  the  provinces, 
for  these  people  were  sturdy  and  honest,  the 
best  representatives  of  the  hardy  adventurers 
who  have  led  the  van  of  civilization. 

In  character,  the  settlers  of  Austin's  colony 
were  of  a  much  higher  type  than  the  lawless 
element  in  the  eastern  section,  which  was  known 
as  the  old  Nacogdoches  colony.  Many  of  the 
settlers  in  Austin's  colony  had  traveled  in  ox- 
wagons  a  thousand  or  fifteen  hundred  miles 
from  beyond  the  Mississippi  River,  amid  all  the 
perils  and  hardships  of  the  wilderness,  crossing 
great  tracts  of  forest  and  prairie,  with  no  road 
or  trail  to  mark  the  way,  and  building  rafts  to 
carry  their  teams  over  the  swollen  streams,  and 
halting  for  a  season  to  raise  a  crop  of  corn. 
Children  were  born  in  the  camps,  and  the  dead 
were  buried  by  the  roadside.  The  ready  rifle 
brought  game  to  the  camp  pot  at  every  halting 
place.  They  heeded  not  the  cold  or  the'heat,  for 
they  made  no  impression  upon  their  hardened 
frames;  and  a  rough  and  ready  surgery  cared 
for  the  accidents  to  flesh  and  limb.  Some  per- 
ished, and  their  sad  story  was  left  to  be  told 
by  the  blood-stained  ashes  of  the  extinguished 
camp  fire,  and  the  plundered  wagons  showed 
where  some  overpowering  band  of  savages  had 
exterminated  the  wanderers.  But  the  surviv- 
ors were  of  a  strong,  hardened  type  of  man- 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  163 

hood,  brought  to  the  perfection  of  courage,  help- 
fulness, and  endurance  by  their  many  trials  and 
perils,  brave  conquerors  of  the  wilderness,  and 
worthy  founders  of  great  states.  The  conces- 
sion from  Mexico  to  Stephen  F.  Austin  was 
made  for  the  settlement  of  three  hundred  fam- 
ilies, on  condition  of  their  professing  the  Roman 
Catholic  religion  and  promising  fidelity  to  the 
Spanish  government.  The  grants  included  640 
acres  of  land  for  each  head  of  a  family  or  single 
man,  to  each  wife  were  given  320  acres,  to  each 
child  160  acres,  and  80  acres  for  each  slave. 
They  fought  the  Indians,  built  cabins  of  hewn 
logs,  cleared  the  soil  and  planted  their  crops. 
They  were  adventurous  in  spirit,  with  an  irre- 
sistible love  for  the  life  in  the  wilderness,  and 
the  delight  of  vigorous  achievement.  Their 
blood  was  warm  and  flashed  easily  into  combat, 
but  they  were  kind,  hospitable  and  honest  and 
thoroughly  manly;  the  cowardly  vices  of  fash- 
ionable society  found  no  place  among  them. 
Austin  was  the  supreme  authority  among  them, 
both  judge  and  commandant,  and  ruled  the  col- 
ony with  fatherly  kindness,  sagacity,  and  jus- 
tice, like  a  patriarch  of  old. 

While  at  work,  the  colonists  kept  guard 
against  the  Indians,  who  roamed  about  seeking 
what  stock  they  could  steal,  and  at  times  making 
midnight  attacks  upon  cabins,  or  murdering  and 
scalping  some  solitary  traveler  or  hunter.  A 
vessel  laden  with  supplies  had  been  cast  away, 
another  had  been  grounded  and  plundered,  its 


164  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

crew  massacred  by  a  tribe  of  ferocious  coast 
Indians.  It  was  then  that  the  settlers  learned 
the  meaning  of  real  privation.  They  were 
obliged  to  subsist  mainly  upon  wild  game, 
such  as  deer,  bear,  and  antelope.  Their 
seed  corn  had  to  be  imported  from  the  United 
States,  or  purchased  at  San  Antonio,  where 
it  was  very  scarce  and  dear,  for  the  beau- 
tiful fields  of  maize  that  once  had  been  wont  to 
bloom  and  mature  along  the  green  valleys,  grew 
no  more.  The  women,  as  well  as  the  men  of  the 
settlements,  were  clothed  in  deer-skin  garments, 
and  in  many  instances  a  stray  pack-peddler  with 
a  few  yards  of  calico  had  been  known  to  receive 
fabulous  prices  for  his  goods,  ofttimes  selling 
at  one  dollar  per  yard.  The  men  built  cabins 
and  made  clearings,  cutting  down  trees  and  cane- 
brakes,  and  in  the  blackened  fields,  after  the 
burning  of  the  brush,  they  made  holes  with 
sharpened  sticks  to  plant  their  corn.  The  col- 
ony continued  to  increase,  and  was  undisturbed 
by  the  Mexican  government  for  a  number  of 
years.  The  old  viceroy,  who  had  so  bitterly  op- 
posed the  advent  of  Americans,  had  passed 
away,  and  a  new  one  reigned  in  his  stead.  Gov- 
ernor Martinez,  of  San  Antonio,  who  had  so 
coldly  received  the  father  of  Stephen  F.  Austin, 
had  shown  himself  more  kind  and  considerate 
of  the  son.  Through  the  intercession  of  Baron 
de  Bastrop,  a  Prussian  officer  who  had  served 
under  Frederick  the  Great,  and  who  was  then 
serving  in  the  Spanish  army,  stationed  with 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  165 

headquarters  at  San  Antonio,  Governor  Mar- 
tinez was  influenced  into  the  friendly  recogni- 
tion of  Austin's  colony.  For  six  years  it  was 
left  free  from  all  taxation.  The  settlers  had 
but  to  fight  the  Indians,  clear  the  wilderness  and 
plough  up  the  prairies,  look  after  their  seed- 
time and  harvest,  and  guard  their  cabin  homes. 
The  beautiful  valley  of  the  Nueces  River  at- 
tracted others  as  it  had  attracted  our  old  friend 
Theodore  Hackett,  and  as  the  different  agri- 
cultural colonies  were  founded  under  grants  of 
land  from  the  Mexican  government,  new-comers 
took  up  their  abode  in  Hackett 's  vicinity.  The 
Irish  colony  of  McMullin  and  McGloire  became 
the  strongest  and  remained  permanent.  Others 
came  but  lasted  only  for  a  short  time,  succumb- 
ing to  the  savage  attacks  of  roving  bands  of 
Comanche  Indians,  or  pilfering  squads  of  rene- 
gade Mexicans.  The  different  agricultural  col- 
onies carried  on  a  friendly  exchange  of  barter 
and  trade.  No  man  took  another 's  note  in  their 
dealings,  the  verbal  promise  of  payment  being 
considered  sufficient.  All  transactions  were 
conducted  on  a  warranted  trust  in  local  integ- 
rity. Hospitality  was  more  than  an  obligation ; 
it  was  impulsive  and  spontaneous.  "The  latch- 
string  hangs  out"  was  a  fact  of  common  life 
among  the  settlers,  and  has  grown  since  into  a 
proverb.  Hackett  extended  a  friendly  welcome 
to  the  settlers  in  the  colonies  north  of  his  ha- 
cienda, and  was  helpful  to  them  in  the  capturing 
and  domesticating  of  the  wild  cattle  and  horses 


106  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

of  the  open  range.  It  was  known  among  them 
that  he  had  a  powerful  influence  over  the  In- 
dians, who  were  many  times  induced  by  him  to 
cease  their  depredations  among  the  settlers  and 
upon  their  property,  and  the  "Big  Sachem'7 
grew  to  be  as  well  loved  among  the  colonists 
as  among  the  Indians. 

There  was  a  geniality  among  the  members 
of  the  Irish  colonies  that  relieved  the  dreariness 
of  their  privations  when  first  establishing  them- 
selves, and  not  infrequently  they  would  ride 
many  miles  from  their  homes  to  some  social 
gathering.  The  American  adventurers  of  San 
Antonio  had  been  drawn  more  to  the  Irish  col- 
onies, through  their  genial  comradeship,  than 
to  that  of  Austin,  and  frequently  intermarriages 
occurred  between  them.  Long  since  our  old 
friend,  Allan  Fairfax,  had  given  up  his  suit  for 
the  dark  eyed  senorita,  the  Governor's  daugh- 
ter, to  wed  a  bonnie  faced  Irish  lassie.  He  had 
founded  a  peltry  exchange  on  Soledad  street, 
and  refused  to  be  routed  from  his  position  by 
the  unfriendly  feeling  against  Americans  then 
existing  in  San  Antonio.  In  one  of  his  trips 
to  the  western  colonies,  to  solicit  their  trade, 
and  to  purchase  pelts  for  the  San  Antonio  mar- 
ket, he  first  met  Malinda  Shacklef ord,  who  after- 
wards became  his  bride.  He  had  finished  trad- 
ing with  the  settlers  in  the  McGloire  colony  to 
the  south,  and  had  turned  his  attention  to  the 
McMullin,  or  north  settlements.  He  was  to 
hold  his  headquarters  at  the  home  of  Ben 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  167 

Shackleford,  and  as  lie  had  ridden  hard  for 
thirty  hours  or  more,  his  horse  was  fagged  and 
he  himself  was  tired  out  when  he  at  last  reached 
the  place.  As  he  rode  up  to  the  front  fence  he 
was  cordially  invited  to  alight.  His  horse  was 
staked  out  to  feed  on  the  prairie  grass,  and  the 
visitor  sat  down  to  exchange  the  news  with  his 
host.  The  coffee-mill  was  set  going,  and  the 
hopper  in  the  hollowed  log  to  grinding  the  corn. 
Fairfax  could  hear  the  movements  of  the  women 
as  they  prepared  the  evening  meal  in  the  lean- 
to  kitchen  adjoining  the  cabin.  He  smelt  the 
odor  of  the  venison  as  it  was  broiling,  and  the 
scent  whetted  his  appetite  anew.  After  the 
evening  meal  and  pipe,  the  visitor  stretched 
himself  out  on  a  buffalo  robe  upon  the  floor  and 
slept  the  sleep  of  health  and  fatigue.  He  rose 
with  the  sun  the  next  morning,  and  while  the 
women  were  cooking  breakfast,  he  went  with  his 
host  to  look  after  his  horse.  He  had  attended 
to  his  horse  and  was  returning  to  the  house, 
when,  just  as  he  was  turning  the  corner  of  the 
double  log  cabin,  he  came  face  to  face  with  a 
beautiful  girl  of  not  more  than  sixteen.  The 
girl  was  swinging  a  milk  pail  in  her  hand,  and 
her  sunbonnet  had  fallen  back  from  her  yellow 
hair,  shining  golden  in  the  morn  ing  sun.  The  face 
revealed  was  strong,  brave,  and  kind,  with  just 
a  touch  of  pride,  and  a  brave,  clear  glance  met 
him  from  the  depths  of  her  blue  eyes.  In  her 
manner  there  was  coupled  a  shy  reserve  and 
fearless  trust.  She  seemed  endowed  with  a 


168  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

pure-heartedness  that  could  awaken  reverence 
and  rebuke  impurity,  as  with  the  vision  of  God. 
She  nodded  her  golden  head,  put  up  her  hand  to 
readjust  her  sunbonnet,  and  in  a  half  friendly 
tone  said  "Good  mornm',"  seeking  to  pass  him 
as  he  stood  barring  the  way. 

"  Howdy !"  replied  Fairfax,  doffing  his  hat 
with  true  gallantry  as  he  spoke,  but  making  no 
effort  to  clear  the  way.  "Couldn't  two  go  on 
the  errand  where  that  pail  is  taking  you?"  he 
questioned,  as  he  looked  smilingly  into  Malin- 
da *s  face. 

"Sure,  moi  faith,  if  it  pPased  ye  would  be  to 
go !"  she  replied,  and  with  alacrity  Fairfax  took 
the  milk  pail  and  turned  his  steps  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  cow-pen,  charmed  with  the  bright 
face  beside  him. 

With  great  dexterity  Malinda  went  about  her 
work,  and  soon  the  pails  were  foaming  to  the 
brim  with  the  fresh,  new  milk.  The  calves  were 
separated  from  their  mothers  and  fastened  in 
their  paddock,  and  the  cows  were  driven  out  of 
the  gate  to  feed  over  the  range  until  nightfall. 
When  the  gates  were  all  made  secure,  Malinda 
took  up  the  milk  pail  and  started  for  the  house, 
but  Fairfax  immediately  relieved  her  of  her 
burden,  and  together  they  walked  back  to  the 
house.  Breakfast  over,  Fairfax  set  about  his 
work,  but  all  day  the  sweet  face  of  Malinda 
Shacklef ord  was  before  him.  He  liked  the  clear, 
level  gaze  from  her  pretty  blue  eyes,  her  bright, 
cheerful  good  nature  and  strong  helpfulness. 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  169 

He  saw  a  great  deal  of  her  during  his  stay,  and 
when  he  came  again  it  was  to  renew  their  friend- 
ship, which  culminated  in  his  taking  her  away 
as  his  bride,,  to  live  with  him  in  the  sleepy  old 
town  of  San  Antonio. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

With  the  sweeping  of  the  years  a  new  republic 
has  been  born ;  Mexico  has  torn  herself  from  the 
thraldom  of  Spanish  rule,  and  the  senors  of 
the  bush-range  and  now  the  dictators  of  the  new 
government.  Xamino  has  seen  his  dream  rea- 
lized, for  Iturbide  has  taken  the  throne.  By  the 
constitution  which  made  Mexico  a  republic,  the 
territory  of  Texas  was  united  with  the  province 
of  Coahuila,  under  the  title  of  "The  State  of 
Texas  and  Coahuila, "  and  the  capital  estab- 
lished at  Saltillo,  five  hundred  miles  from  the 
Texas  colony.  The  two  provinces  had  nothing 
in  common,  the  one  being  inhabited  by  a  Mexi- 
can and  the  other  by  an  American  population. 
The  government  of  the  State  was  entirely  in  the 
hands  of  the  Mexicans,  the  Texan  representa- 
tives in  the  provincial  assembly  being  limited 
to  two.  This,  coupled  with  the  signs  of  a  grow- 
ing spirit  of  interference  on  the  part  of  the  Mex- 
ican government,  caused  a  feeling  of  uneasiness 
and  distrust. 

A  proposition  which  was  made  during  the  ad- 
ministration of  President  Adams  of  the  United 
States,  to  purchase  the  territory,  deepened  the 
jealousy  of  the  Mexican  government  in  regard 
to  the  American  occupation  of  Texas.  The  new 
republic  was  unstable,  and  petty  jealousies  were 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  171 

continually  arising  among  the  new  rulers.  The 
head  of  Santa  Anna  was  continually  appearing 
above  the  troubled  waters  of  Mexican  politics. 
He  had  organized  two  revolts,  one  to  overthrow 
Iturbide,  and  the  other  to  depose  his  successor, 
President  Pedraza,  and  he  had  defeated  and  cap- 
tured a  division  of  Spanish  troops  under  Gen- 
eral Baradas,  who  had  landed  at  Tampico  for 
the  purpose  of  repossessing  the  country  for  the 
King. 

From  the  eminence  of  his  position  as  Briga- 
dier-General and  Commandant  of  Vera  Cruz, 
he  made  the  lash  of  his  political  whip  felt  all 
over  the  republic.  Not  only  had  he  deposed 
Iturbide  and  Pedraza,  but  he  outmaneuvered 
Bustamenta,  who  had  usurped  the  presidency, 
and  when  he  had  him  in  his  power  he  banished 
him  from  the  republic.  At  last,  when  he  suc- 
ceeded in  having  himself  elected  to  the  presi- 
dency, he  abolished  the  Congress,  and  virtually 
made  himself  dictator,  and  arrogated  to  himself 
the  title  of  the  "Napoleon  of  the  West." 

The  State  of  Coahuila  and  Texas  had  passed 
a  law  in  the  legislature  forbidding  the  further 
settlement  of  American  colonists.  This,  with 
the  great  inconvenience  and  lack  of  organiza- 
tion resulting  from  the  unfavorable  union  of 
the  two  provinces,  influenced  the  colonists  in 
Texas  to  demand  the  organization  of  Texas  into 
a  State  by  herself.  They  elected  delegates  to  a 
convention  for  this  purpose,  and  thus,  by  the 
meeting  of  the  delegates  at  the  town  of  San 


172  LA   BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

Filipe,the  first  outbreak  occurred  that  was  to  ter- 
minate eventually  in  the  independence  of  Texas. 
All  directions  and  orders  to  the  colonists  were 
issued  from  San  Filipe  by  the  committee  of 
delegates  in  waiting  there,  and  when  it  became 
known  among  them  that  President  Santa  Anna 
rejected  their  constitution,  they  began  forming 
in  small  companies  for  self  protection,  for  the 
Indians  were  murdering  many  of  the  settlers, 
and  the  Mexican  government  was  extending  to 
them  no  protection  whatsoever. 

When  the  news  reached  the  capital,  through 
the  Governor  of  Coahuila,  that  the  colonists 
were  forming  into  bands  and  arming  themselves, 
orders  were  sent  out  by  Santa  Anna  for  the 
general  disarmament  of  the  Texans.  Often  has 
the  bitter  story  been  told  of  the  desperate  and 
bloody  struggle  of  the  colonists  against  the  des- 
potic tyranny  of  President  Santa  Anna  in  their 
fight  for  freedom  and  independence.  Every 
child  born  on  Texas  soil,  with  one  drop  of  the 
old  constitution  blood  in  its  veins,  will  cease  its 
merriment  and  listen  with  bated  breath  when  it 
hears  from  its  mother's  lips  the  story  of  the 
storming  of  the  Alamo.  The  doleful  memory  of 
that  sad  crusade  makes  the  lips  of  the  matured 
whiten  and  be  tighter  drawn,  and  causes  the 
slow,  bitter  tear  of  regret  to  descend  upon  the 
furrowed  cheek  of  old  age. 

While  sedition  and  confusion  reigned  among 
the  military  and  governmental  organizations  in 
Texas,  Santa  Anna  had  been  consolidating  the 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  173 

power  in  Mexico.  State  legislatures  had  been 
abolished  by  the  new  constitution,  and  only  the 
form  of  a  federal  government  remained,  with  its 
department  council  and  governors  of  provinces 
appointed  by  the  president,  who  was  the  su- 
preme authority  and  absolute  dictator  in  all  but 
the  name.  The  Eepublican  Party  was  crushed, 
and  the  majority  of  the  Mexican  people,  seeing 
their  liberties  taken  from  them,  submitted  to  the 
heel  of  tyranny  pressing  upon  their  necks,  as 
perforce  there  was  no  help  for  the  evil.  Feeling 
himself  conqueror  of  Mexico,  Santa  Anna  be,- 
gan  mobilizing  his  troops  at  San  Louis  Potosi, 
preparing  for  th£  subjugation  of  Texas,  where 
alone  his  rule  was  resisted.  General  Cos  was 
then  besieged  in  San  Antonio,  and  it  was  early 
in  December  when  the  first  brigade,  under  the 
command  of  General  Sesma,  was  sent  to  his  re- 
lief. The  remainder  of  the  forces,  with  the  cav- 
alry and  artillery,  were  stationed  at  Saltillo, 
and  Santa  Anna  took  the  command  in  person. 
The  troops  were  the  best  in  the  Mexican  army — 
disciplined  veterans,  so  far  as  their  irregular 
system  of  service  could  render  them.  Santa 
Anna  moved  his  army  of  four  thousand  men 
from  Saltillo  to  Monclova.  Leaving  his  army 
at  this  point,  and  accompanied  by  a  cavalry  es- 
cort, he  visited  the  camps  of  General  Sesma  and 
General  Cos,  the  latter  having  retreated  from 
San  Antonio,  under  the  fire  of  the  Texans,  and 
when  found  by  General  Sesma 's  brigade,  he  was 
resting  on  the  Eio  Grande.  Santa  Anna  consoli- 


174  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

dated  his  entire  army  under  Cos  and  Sesma  at 
Monclova,  where  it  numbered  between  six  and 
seven  thousand  men,  followed,  in  accordance 
with  the  Mexican  custom,  by  a  great  crowd  of 
women,  wives  of  the  soldiers,  and  many  other 
camp  followers,  which  added  great  difficulty  and 
distress  to  the  moving  of  the  Mexican  army 
across  the  sandy  desert  wastes  between  Mon- 
clova and  San  Antonio.  But  the  imperious  and 
dominant  will  of  Santa  Anna  brought  the  ad- 
vance guard  before  San  Antonio  on  the  22d  of 
February.  The  Texans  were  taken  by  surprise. 
Heedless  of  the  necessity  of  scouting  and  recon- 
noitering  for  the  enemy,  they  had  suffered  them 
to  steal  up  to  their  very  doors  without  any  warn- 
ing. The  garrison  hastily  retreated  across  the 
river  to  the  Alamo,  and  as  they  swept  across  the 
plain  they  hastily  gathered  up  some  thirty  or 
forty  beef  cattle  and  drove  them  into  the  plaza 
of  the  fortress,  where  Colonel  Travis  was  in 
command.  He  had  been  as  careless  about  his 
supply  of  provisions  as  about  keeping  watch 
for  the  approach  of  the  enemy,  and  the  garri- 
son of  one  hundred  and  forty-five  men  were  shut 
up  in  the  fortress  with  a  scant  supply  of  food. 
Travis  had  been  a  recruiting  officer  at  San  Fil- 
ipe,  and  had  been  sent  from  that  place  with  a 
small  detachment  of  men  to  guard  the  fortress 
of  San  Antonio,  while  Generals  Houston,  Fan- 
nin,  Grant,  and  Austin  were  occupied  in  defend- 
ing other  points  where  the  heaviest  attacks  were 
anticipated.  The  men  under  Travis  had  no 


LA    BELLE    SAX    AXTONE  175 

training  in  arms  save  that  of  the  use  of  their 
rifles  in  killing  game,  fighting  the  Indians  and 
protecting  their  homes.  There  was  no  military 
rule;  only  a  brave,  heroic  purpose  and  dogged 
determination  to  hold  their  post  until  aid  could 
reach  them.  But  aid  did  not  come,  save  by  small 
bands  of  resolute  men  who  dared  to  steal 
through  the  Mexican  lines.  Colonel  Travis  was 
a  native  of  North  Carolina,  only  twenty-eight 
years  old,  tall,  fair,  and  of  erect  and  manly  bear- 
ing. He  was  a  young  lawyer ;  and  because  of  a 
prominent  part  he  had  taken  in  the  early  Mexi- 
can disturbances,  he  had  won  the  undying  en- 
mity of  Santa  Anna.  Next  under  Travis  was 
Colonel  Bowie,  a  thorough  product  of  the  all- 
over  West,  and  inventor  of  the  murderous  knife 
which  bears  his  name  to-day.  With  them  was 
the  immortal  Crockett,  that  unique  Tennesseean, 
with  his  great  love  for  the  woods  and  the  chase 
—the  popular  prince  at  the  rustic  pleasure  bouts 
and  the  sportsman  king  of  the  shooting  matches. 
Colonel  Bonham,  of  South  Carolina,  was  an- 
other handsome,  spirited  fellow  who  fell  in  the 
terrible  slaughter. 

For  two  long  weeks  the  siege  lasted,  with 
great  loss  to  the  Mexican  forces,  many  of  them 
succumbing  to  the  accurate  firing  of  the  Texans, 
who  were  jealously  watchful  of  their  ammuni- 
tion, and  took  care  that  every  bullet  should  bring 
down  a  Mexican.  Crouched  behind  the  cover  of 
the  thick  fortress  walls,  they  successfully  re- 


176  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

pulsed  the  enemy  with  the  withering  fire  of  their 
artillery  and  of  the  rifles  from  the  port  holes. 

Fate  had  marked  them  for  martyrs,  or  else 
the  stirring  appeal  of  Colonel  Travis  "to  the 
people  of  Texas  and  all  Americans  in  the  world  " 
would  have  been  heeded,  and  the  aid  sent  the 
garrison  that  they  so  sorely  needed.  Colonel  Bon- 
ham,  who  made  his  escape  through  the  Mexican 
picket  lines,  as  a  courier  for  the  garrison,  seek- 
ing aid,  returned  with  a  message  from  Colonel 
Fannin,  of  Goliad,  that  he  would  march  at  once 
to  their  relief.  The  breaking  down  of  his  am- 
munition wagon,  and  the  lack  of  oxen  to  get  his 
cannon  across  the  river,  during  his  march  to- 
ward San  Antonio,  rendered  futile  his  efforts 
to  reach  the  Alamo  with  his  three  hundred  men. 
As  he  had  no  food  for  his  troops  save  a  little  rice 
and  dried  beef,  he  returned  to  Goliad. 

In  his  last  message  to  the  government  Travis 
said,  in  part :  * '  The  determined  spirit  and  des- 
perate courage  of  my  men  heretofore  exhibited, 
I  feel  will  not  fail  them  in  the  final  struggle. 
They  may  be  sacrificed  to  the  vengeance  of  the 
enemy,  but  their  victory  will  cost  them  so  dear, 
that  it  will  prove  worse  than  a  defeat."  After 
that  last  message  there  was  no  more  appeal 
heard  from  the  old  battered  fortress;  it  was  a 
bitter  hand-to-hand  fight  with  the  enemy  to  the 
death.  By  all  the  cunning  stratagem  his  crafty 
brain  could  devise,  Santa  Anna  planned  and  re- 
planned  his  attacks  upon  the  fortress,  but  it  was 
not  until  the  arrival  of  more  troops  on  March 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  177 

2d,  that  he  at  last  broke  the  lines  and  stormed 
the  Alamo.  On  Sunday,  after  having  given  his 
troops  three  days  in  which  to  rest,  he  prepared 
for  the  onslaught.  In  the  gray,  uncertain  light 
of  early  morning,  the  sound  of  bugle  notes  rang 
out  over  the  river  and  the  bands  struck  up  the 
Spanish  air  of  Deguelo  (Cut-throat),  the  signal 
that  no  quarter  would  be  shown  in  the  attack 
they  were  going  to  make.  Santa  Anna  viewed 
the  attack  from  the  battery  in  front  of  the  plaza, 
longing  to  wreak  vengeance  for  the  vast  num- 
ber of  his  soldiers  who  had  been  slain  during 
the  long  and  bitter  siege. 

A  deadly  fire  from  the  artillery  and  rifles 
through  the  port  holes  of  the  fortress  walls, 
drove  back  the  column  attacking  the  north  wall. 
At  the  eastern  and  western  walls  they  were  like- 
wise repulsed.  The  columns  swaying  around  to 
the  north  side  were  driven  forward  by  the  blows 
and  shouts  of  their  officers.  Once  more  the  Mex- 
icans recoiled  under  the  withering  fire  from  the 
artillery  and  rifles,  each  Texan  being  supplied 
with  two  and  in  some  cases  three  loaded  guns, 
which  were  fired  with  great  coolness  and  pre- 
cision. 

At  the  third  attack  the  Mexicans  scaled  the 
walls,  carrying  the  redoubt  at  the  sally  port. 
They  filled  the  convent  yard,  the  Texans  with- 
drawing into  the  convent  and  hospital  for  shel- 
ter, fighting  from  room  to  room,  using  their 
bowie  knives  and  clubbed  rifles  as  long  as  they 
could  lift  a  hand  to  strike.  The  Mexicans  fired 


178  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

a  howitzer  into  the  hospital  room,  carrying 
death  and  destruction  by  wholesale.  Colonel 
Travis  and  Colonel  Bonham  had  already  fallen. 
Crockett  was  killed  in  the  last  struggle  which 
took  place  in  the  church,  falling  near  the  en- 
trance with  his  clubbed  rifle  in  his  hand.  Bowie 
was  shot  from  the  door  of  a  room  as  he  lay 
wounded.  He  had  half  lifted  himself  from  his 
bed,  firing  his  pistols  at  his  enemies  and  hero- 
ically defending  himself  to  the  last.  Another 
wounded  man,  by  the  name  of  Walters,  was 
pursued  by  the  Mexicans,  who  shot  him  and 
then  raised  him  on  their  bayonets  and  held  him 
aloft  until  his  blood  ran  down  upon  them. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  Alamo  had  fallen.  Santa 
Anna  left  the  shelter  of  the  battery  to  visit  the 
scene.  A  small  party  of  five  or  six  men  who  had 
secreted  themselves  were  brought  before  him. 
Among  the  number  was  a  Mexican  half  caste, 
with  Mextico  Indian  blood.  His  skin  was  dark 
and  leathery  from  long  exposure  to  the  elements, 
his  hair  slightly  grizzled,  but  his  lithe,  sinewy 
form  was  erect,  and  his  manner  defiant  to  the 
last.  General  Castrillion  interceded  with  Santa 
Anna  for  their  lives,  but  he  reprimanded  him 
and  ordered  them  executed.  As  the  Mexican  sol- 
diers lifted  their  bayonets,  a  tall  Texan,  bronzed 
from  sun  and  wind,  faced  the  enemy  with  de- 
fiance, cursing  them  to  the  last,  as  cowards  of 
the  rankest  type,  to  let  a  mere  handful  of  men 
hold  them  at  bay  so  long,  and  they  with  their 
" whole  army  at  their  back."  A  bayonet  thrust 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  179 

was  his  only  answer,  and  he  fell  headlong  among 
his  murdered  comrades. 

After  the  slaughter,  the  bodies  of  the  dead 
Texans  were  collected  by  the  command  of  Santa 
Anna  and  piled  together  between  layers  of  dry 
wood,  a  mound  of  dry  brush  was  built  above 
them  and  the  whole  mass  burned,  their  ashes 
and  bones  being  left  to  the  dogs  and  vultures. 

The  men,  under  Colonel  Travis,  when  he  went 
into  the  garrison,  numbered  one  hundred  and 
forty-five,  and  from  time  to  time  during  the  long- 
siege,  small  squads  stole  in  to  help  defend  the 
Alamo.  One  party  from  Gonzales,  under  Cap- 
tain J.  W.  Smith,  with  three  Mexicans  from  the 
town  and  a  few  scattering  Americans,  were  the 
only  ones  who  came  to  their  aid.  These  brought 
the  number  to  about  one  hundred  and  eighty  in 
all.  Had  Travis  been  more  thoroughly  skilled 
in  strategic  warfare,  he  probably  would  not  have 
undertaken  the  defense  of  the  Alamo  with  so 
small  a  number  of  troops.  They  could  have 
made  their  escape  as  easily  as  the  party  from 
Gonzales  mad**  their  way  into  the  fort,  but  it 
was  their  preference  and  choice  to  die  in  their 
tracks,  rather  than  back  out  from  an  enemy  they 
hated  so  bitterly.  The  invincible  courage  of 
their  cool  and  desperate  natures  determined 
them  to  stay  and  fight  to  the  last ;  it  was  only  one 
of  the  many  desperate  chances  for  their  lives, 
with  the  odds  against  them,  that  they  had  taken 
before. 

It  is  not  possible  to  give  in  detail  here  all  of 


180  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

the  struggles  against  privation  and  all  the  heroic 
fortitude  that  characterized  the  small  army  that 
fought  for  and  won  the  Independence  of  Texas. 
Our  story  purports  to  deal  principally  with  life 
in  San  Antonio,  from  her  first  founding  by  the 
Franciscan  friars,  of  their  missions  there  and  in 
the  valley  of  the  San  Antonio  Eiver,  for  the 
purpose  of  educating  and  Christianizing  the 
Indians,  to  the  days  when  peace,  prosperity,  and 
security  waved  its  banners  over  her  and  the 
homes  of  our  friends  who  helped  to  make  part 
of  her  history. 

After  the  massacre  of  Travis  and  his  men  in 
the  Alamo,  Santa  Anna  moved  from  San  An- 
tonio, where  he  left  General  Sesma  in  charge  of 
a  strongly  fortified  garrison.  Samuel  Houston 
had  been  called  from  New  Washington,  where 
the  new  constitution  had  been  formed  and  where 
the  spirit  of  independence  was  being  fostered 
by  the  news  of  the  attack  upon  the  Alamo.  He 
could  not  leave  the  unfinished  work  to  go  him- 
self, for  Texas  had  not  yet  been  declared  a  re- 
public, but  he  sent  couriers  to  Fannin  at  Goliad, 
and  to  the  people  generally,  to  send  help  to  the 
besieged  fortress,  and  to  say  that  the  birth  of  the 
new  republic  would  be  hastened  as  speedily  as 
possible,  that  the  convention  might  be  dismissed, 
and  the  men  forming  it  take  up  their  arms  and 
help  defend  their  independence.  The  constitu- 
tion was  signed  by  fifty  members,  three  of  whom 
were  Mexicans.  The  convention  adjourned,  and 
the  provisional  government  moved  its  head- 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  181 

quarters  to  Harrisburg,  on  the  Buffalo  Bayou. 
Mrs.  Dickenson,  wife  of  Lieutenant  Dickenson, 
who  had  perished  in  the  defense  of  the  Alamo, 
was  sent  as  a  messenger  to  the  colonists  in  the 
east  settlements.  The  message  she  bore  was 
from  Santa  Anna,  that  he  was  victor  of  the 
field  and  that  they  were  to  give  up  their  arms 
and  submit  to  his  rule. 

Antonio  Borgaro,  a  Mexican  from  San  An- 
tonio, carried  definite  news  of  the  fall  of  the 
Alamo  to  the  citizens  of  the  town  of  Gonzales. 
There  was  a  scene  of  mourning  and  bitter  grief 
in  the  little  town,  for  the  larger  portion  of  itsmale 
population  had  belonged  to  the  Gonzales  party 
who  had  gone  to  the  relief  of  the  Alamo.  Hous- 
ton reached  the  town  on  the  llth  of  March  and 
was  met  by  the  news  of  the  massacre.  He  at 
once  sent  a  message  to  Goliad  with  orders  to 
Colonel  Fannin  to  blow  up  the  fort  and  evacuate 
the  place,  by  his  right  as  Commander-in-Chief 
of  the  Texan  army.  Fannin  was  ordered  to 
march  to  Victoria,  on  the  Guadalupe  Eiver,  and 
intrench  himself  there  to  await  further  orders. 
Then  he  set  himself  to  calm  the  panic  among  the 
people  of  the  little  town  of  Gonzales.  He 
brought  order  out  of  chaos  by  taking  the  lead  in 
forming  the  citizens  into  an  evacuating  party. 
After  leaving  the  town  it  was  fired,  and  as  the 
marching  band  looked  backward  they  could  see 
their  homes  in  a  blaze,  the  lurid  flames  outlined 
against  the  night  sky.  On  his  way,  and  at  differ- 
ent times,  he  was  joined  by  parties  of  volunteers 


182  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

until  his  force  numbered  four  hundred  and 
seventy-four  men.  He  pushed  on  with  his  party 
until  they  reached  the  Colorado  Biver,  fording 
it  at  a  place  called  Burnham's  Crossing.  Here 
he  pitched  his  camp  and  waited  for  news  from 
Fannin.  When  Fannin  received  Houston's  dis- 
patch, ordering  him  to  abandon  Goliad  and  fall 
back  to  Victoria,  he  was  in  command  of  about 
live  hundred  men,  who  consisted  almost  entirely 
of  volunteers  from  the  United  States,  very  few 
of  them  being  Texans.  The  work  of  evacuation 
was  begun  by  the  bringing  in  of  the  families 
from  the  adjoining  town  of  Eefugio.  It  was 
learned  the  Mexican  forces  were  marching  to- 
ward the  town,  and  though  every  precaution  was 
taken  to  hasten  the  evacuation  of  the  place  after 
the  intelligence  received,  it  was  too  late  to  es- 
cape the  enemy.  Fannin  had  erected  earthworks 
about  the  old  stone  mission  of  Goliad  and  called 
it  Fort  Defiance.  He  had  also  hoped  to  be  able 
to  hold  the  town  against  the  forces  of  the  enemy, 
and  made  the  irretrievable  blunder  of  delaying 
in  obeying  Houston's  orders.  Numerous  cou- 
riers had  been  sent  out  for  news  of  the  rescuing 
party  sent  to  the  families  of  Kefugio,  but  he 
waited  in  vain  for  their  return.  At  last  he  sent 
out  a  reconnoitering  party  under  Captain  Hor- 
ton,  who  came  back  with  the  report  that  a  large 
force  was  advancing  from  the  direction  of  San 
Antonio.  He  held  a  consultation  with  his  offi- 
cers, and  it  was  decided  to  retreat.  The  heavy 
pieces  of  cannon  were  buried,  the  fort  was  dis- 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  183 

mantled,  and  all  supplies  that  could  not  be  car- 
ried with  the  force  were  destroyed.  Across  the 
open  savannah,  with  no  protection  save  a  few 
belts  of  skirting  timber,  the  march  was  begun 
toward  Coleto  Creek,  some  ten  miles  away.  As 
the  morning  fog  cleared  away,  the  bright  sun- 
shine outlined  the  sand  dunes  and  skirting  tim- 
bers against  the  intensely  blue  sky.  Far  away, 
a  couple  of  mounted  videttes,  who  had  paused 
with  drawn  rein  upon  a  high  knoll  to  recon- 
noiter,  watched  the  train  moving  along  toward 
the  scattering  belts  of  timber. 

When  nearing  the  sheltering  timbers  of  the 
Celto,  Fannin  made  another  great  mistake, 
against  the  advice  of  his  officers,  in  stopping  his 
train  in  the  open,  that  the  horses  might  graze 
upon  the  grass  that  had  lately  sprung  up.  When 
the  teams  had  been  grazing  for  upwards  of  two 
hours  Fannin  gave  orders  to  gather  them  in, 
hitch  up  and  move  forward.  As  they  were  pre- 
paring to  resume  the  march,  a  dark  line  of  cav- 
alry was*  seen  emerging  from  a  belt  of  timber  some 
two  miles  to  the  right  of  Fannin 's  force.  They  ad- 
vanced at  a  rapid  pace  and  formed  a  mass  which 
obstructed  the  way  between  the  Texan  force  and 
the  shelter  of  the  timber  skirting  the  creek.  It 
was  the  command  of  General  Urrea;  and  by 
three  o'clock,  just  one  hour  after  their  appear- 
ing upon  the  scene,  the  enemy  had  planted  their 
troops  and  opened  fire  on  the  Texas  train.  The 
Mexicans  charged  with  great  impetuosity,  but 
were  driven  back  by  the  withering  fire  of  the  ar- 


184  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

tillery  and  rifles  of  the  Texans.  Urrea  en- 
deavored to  break  the  Texan  lines  by  a  cavalry 
charge  led  by  himself,  but  he  was  beaten  back 
by  a  discharge  of  grapeshot  from  the  howitzer 
and  the  rifle  volleys.  Again  and  again  the  as- 
sault was  made,  the  Mexican  officers  pricking 
their  men  from  behind  with  their  swords  to  urge 
them  on.  It  was  impossible  to  hold  them  in  line, 
the  cavalry  breaking  as  they  came  in  range  of 
the  artillery  of  the  Texans.  There  was  a  wild, 
mad  retreat  of  the  Mexicans;  the  plain  was 
strewn  with  dead  men  and  horses ;  the  infantry 
was  driven  into  wilder  confusion  by  the  dashing 
of  riderless  horses,  crazed  with  fright,  through 
their  lines.  The  Mexican  forces  were  finally 
rallied  for  another  assault.  Fannin  had  been 
wounded  in  the  last  engagement,  but  still  com- 
manded his  troops  with  great  coolness  and  cour- 
ageous bearing.  The  firing  continued  until  dark, 
and  then  Urrea  drew  off  his  troops.  The  camp 
fires  of  the  Mexican  army  gleamed  in  the  dark- 
ness, and  the  cry  of  "sentinela  alerte"  sounded 
continually  along  the  lines. 

The  cannon  of  the  Texans  had  locked  from 
heat,  as  there  was  no  water  to  sponge  and  cool 
them  off ;  only  a  few  rounds  of  ammunition  were 
left,  and  Fannin  advised  his  men  to  accept  the 
alternative  and  make  their  escape  by  retreating 
during  the  night,  which  was  intensely  dark  and 
foggy.  Such  a  move  would  have  necessitated 
the  leaving  of  the  wounded,  some  sixty  men, 
behind,  and  this  the  men  refused  to  do. 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  185 

By  an  oversight  the  wagons  containing  the 
provisions  had  been  left  behind,  and  there  was 
neither  food  nor  drink  for  the  besieged.  In  the 
morning  reinforcements  joined  the  enemy, 
bringing  fresh  artillery  and  a  large  number  of 
pack-mules  laden  with  ammunition  and  supplies. 
The  Texans  realized  the  odds  were  against  them, 
and  a  consultation  of  the  officers  was  held.  The 
decision  arrived  at  was  for  a  surrender,  if  hon- 
orable and  safe  terms  could  be  obtained.  Fan- 
nin  objected,  but  was  overruled  by  the  majority. 

The  white  flag  was  hoisted,  and  the  enemy 
immediately  responded.  Colonel  Fannin,  ac- 
companied by  Major  Wallace  and  Captain  Du- 
rangue  as  interpreter,  met  the  Mexican  officers 
in  conference,  and  it  was  agreed  that  upon  the 
Texans  surrendering  as  prisoners  of  war,  they 
should  be  treated  according  to  the  usages  of  civi- 
lized nations,  and  the  wounded  would  be  taken 
back  to  Goliad,  where  their  wounds  would  be 
cared  for.  It  was  also  agreed  that  the  men 
would  be  sent  to  New  Orleans  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity under  parole,  with  the  promise  that  they 
would  take  up  arms  no  more  against  the  Mexi- 
can government.  The  Mexican  officer  who  was 
appointed  to  receive  the  surrendered  arms, 
placed  them  inside  a  box,  nailed  it  up,  and  set  it 
aside  with  the  assurance  that  they  would  be  de- 
livered to  them  on  their  release.  But  they  were 
never  released ;  they  were  taken  back  to  Goliad 
and  placed  in  an  old  mission  church  under  heavy 
guard.  They  were  huddled  together  in  the 


186  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

church  that  was  too  small  for  the  number  of 
prisoners,  and  given  only  four  ounces  of  fresh 
beef,  which  they  were  compelled  to  cook  as  best 
they  could.  In  a  few  days  about  one  hundred 
more  Texans,  who  had  been  captured  by  Urrea's 
scouts,  were  brought  into  Goliad  and  placed  in 
the  same  prison.  When  the  news  reached  Santa 
Anna  of  the  capture  of  Fannin's  force,  he  sent 
orders  to  Lieutenant-Colonel  Portilla,  who  had 
them  under  charge,  as  he  was  Commandant  of 
Goliad,  to  have  the  prisoners  all  shot.  Portilla 
was  much  agitated  and  filled  with  sorrow  by  the 
receipt  of  the  order.  The  news  spread  among 
the  Mexican  officers  that  Santa  Anna  had  given 
orders  for  the  massacre,  and  the  more  humane 
were  indignant  and  horrified  at  his  savage 
cruelty.  Much  as  they  hated  him  for  his  barbar- 
ous nature,  he  was  their  superior  officer,  and 
his  orders  must  be  obeyed.  It  was  in  the  early 
morning  of  Palm  Sunday,  the  day  set  for  the 
execution.  The  prisoners  were  awakened,  and 
in  three  separate  divisions  they  were  taken  out 
of  the  town  by  different  roads.  When  about  a 
mile  beyond  the  town  the  divisions  were  halted, 
the  right  line  of  guards  passed  to  the  left,  and 
order  was  given  to  fire,  and  the  volleys  were 
poured  in  at  close  range.  The  prisoners  fell  in 
heaps,  one  upon  the  other.  A  few  staggered  to 
their  feet,  unwounded,  and  made  a  dash  for  the 
timber.  They  were  pursued  by  the  cavalry  and 
shot  down  as  they  ran,  the  wounded  being  stab- 
bed to  death  where  they  fell  by  the  bayonets  of 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  187 

the  guards.  Twenty-seven  succeeded  in  making 
their  escape  by  reaching  the  woods,  swimming 
the  river,  and  making  their  way  by  night  and 
hiding  by  day,  until  they  reached  the  settle- 
ments. Later  in  the  day  Colonel  Fannin  and 
one  of  his  under  officers  were  taken  out  about 
a  half  a  mile  from  the  town  to  be  executed.  Fan- 
nin received  the  order  for  his  execution  with  a 
calm  demeanor ;  he  handed  his  watch  to  the  com- 
manding officer,  asking  that  it  be  sent  to  his 
family;  also  he  requested  that  he  not  be  shot  in 
the  head,  and  that  his  body  be  given  decent  bur- 
ial. The  under  officer  refused  to  kneel  at  the 
word  of  command,  and  was  shot  while  denounc- 
ing the  Mexicans  as  cold-blooded  murderers. 
His  body,  along  with  Fannin 's,  was  thrown  into 
the  heap  with  the  rest  of  the  murdered  prison- 
ers, and  the  next  day  some  brushwood  was  piled 
upon  the  mass  and  set  on  fire,  but  was  insuffi- 
cient to  consume  the  bodies,  which  were  seen  the 
following  day,  a  scorched  and  mangled  prey  for 
the  vultures.  The  number  of  prisoners  killed 
by  the  Mexicans  who  had  them  under  guard 
amounted  to  over  three  hundred  and  twenty. 
The  crime  of  the  butchery  rested  entirely  upon 
Santa  Anna;  and  the  massacre  was  as  bung- 
lingly  executed  as  it  was  cruel,  cowardly,  and 
treacherous.  His  aim  was  to  strike  terror  into 
the  hearts  of  the  Texan  colonists  and  drive  them 
out  of  the  province  by  his  merciless  severity, 
but  his  cruel  butcheries  only  roused  them  to  a 
higher  pitch  of  fury.  He  executed  a  march  of 


188  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

general  devastation  after  the  massacre  of  Go- 
liad,  sweeping  the  face  of  the  land  clean  of  all 
inhabitants  as  he  went,  killing  stock  and  burn- 
ing homes,  carrying  destruction  as  he  went  and 
leaving  desolation  in  his  wake.  To  the  credit  of 
the  Mexican  officers  it  can  be  said  that  they  were 
shocked  at  Santa  Anna's  savage  barbarity,  and 
some  of  them  had  the  courage  to  express  to  him 
their  shame  and  mortification. 

It  remained  for  the  dauntless  and  daring 
Houston  to  out-maneuver  Santa  Anna  and  de- 
molish his  army.  Houston  had  remained  at 
Burnham's  Crossing  for  two  days,  gathering 
fugitive  families  from  the  settlements  who  were 
fleeing  from  the  wrath  of  Santa  Anna,  and  also 
waiting  until  he  could  hear  from  Fannin,  to 
whom  he  sent  his  orders  for  the  evacuation  of 
Goliad.  At  this  time  he  had  not  over  seven  hun- 
dred men,  and  not  hearing  from  Fannin,  he 
sought  to  better  entrench  his  troops  by  moving 
further  down  the  river  to  a  place  known  as  Bea- 
son's  Crossing,  where  he  remained,  still  waiting 
for  news  from  Fannin,  until  the  26th.  On  the 
19th  General  Sesma  and  General  Woll  arrived 
with  a  Mexican  force  estimated  at  about  six 
hundred  men,  striking  camp  about  two  miles 
above  Season's  Crossing,  the  place  of  Houston's 
encampment.  Houston  disputed  Sesma 's  cross- 
ing the  river ;  the  Mexicans  fell  back  and  made 
no  further  attempt  to  cross.  Houston  kept  out 
spies  to  ascertain  the  number  of  men  in  Sesma 's 
force,  and  if  he  was  receiving  any  reinforce- 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  189 

ments.  He  could  have  fallen  upon  the  Mexicans 
and  driven  them  back,  but  he  was  waiting  for 
news  of  the  movements  of  Fannin  and  his 
troops. 

On  the  night  of  the  25th  a  fugitive  from  the 
Goliad  massacre  arrived  in  camp  with  the  news 
of  the  capture  and  massacre  of  Fannin  and  his 
troops.  Houston  flew  into  a  rage,  declared  the 
man  to  be  a  traitor  and  a  spy  and  ordered  him 
under  guard  for  execution  the  next  morning,  a 
threat  which  he  did  not  carry  out,  for  he  feared 
the  effect  of  the  news  upon  his  men,  and  sought 
to  keep  it  from  them.  He  visited  the  man  pri- 
vately at  night,  and  was  satisfied  at  the  close  of 
the  interview  that  the  report  was  correct.  He 
made  up  his  mind  to  fall  back  to  the  Brazos,  but 
he  kept  his  own  council,  taking  into  his  confi- 
dence no  one  save  his  chief-of-staff.  He  began 
his  retreat  on  the  evening  of  the  26th.  His  men 
were  restless  and  hungry  for  a  fight ;  they  could 
see  nothing  in  retreating  but  a  show  of  timidity 
in  meeting  the  foe.  But  Houston  was  indefati- 
gable; his  sagacity  and  shrewd  and  clever  ma- 
neuvering finally  brought  his  fiery  and  insubor- 
dinate troops,  over  swollen  streams  and  across 
boggy  prairies,  to  the  valley  of  the  Brazos, 
where  he  was  joined  by  the  vice-president  of  the 
new  republic,  Zavala,  and  also  a  small  company 
of  men  from  eastern  Texas.  Houston  remained 
encamped,  all  the  time  keeping  spies  busy  feel- 
ing for  the  movements  of  the  Mexican  army,  and 
especially  for  the  whereabouts  of  Santa  Anna, 


190  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

who  had  himself  hastened  forward  to  take  com- 
mand of  Sesma 's  column.  General  Urrea  and 
General  Gaona  had  been  ordered  to  meet  the 
forces  of  Sesma  at  San  Filipe.  Santa  Anna  arid 
Sesma  arrived  at  San  Filipe  only  to  find  that 
Houston  had  vanished  into  the  woods.  Hous- 
ton's scouts  had  reported  to  him  that  the  ad- 
vance of  the  Mexican  army  had  reached  the  val- 
ley of  the  Brazos,  and  when  he  heard  the  news 
he  issued  an  order  to  his  army,  saying,  "The 
moment  we  have  waited  for  with  anxiety  and  in- 
terest is  fast  approaching.  The  victims  of  the 
Alamo,  and  the  names  of  those  who  were  mur- 
dered at  Goliad  call  for  cool,  deliberate  ven- 
geance. Let  the  army  be  in  condition  for  action 
at  a  moment's  warning.''  In  the  meantime  the 
citizens  of  Cincinnati  had  sent  to  the  Texan  com- 
mander a  couple  of  six-pounder  guns  known  as 
"the  twin  sisters."  Canister  for  these  was 
made  of  broken  pieces  of  old  iron  and  horse- 
shoes, tied  in  bags. 

On  the  14th,  Houston  began  his  march  to  the 
south,  following  up  the  trail  of  the  Mexican 
army.  Spies  brought  in  a  prisoner  bearing  a 
buckskin  bag  full  of  dispatches  to  Santa  Anna 
from  General  Filisola,  in  the  City  of  Mexico. 
This  proved  to  Houston  that  the  Mexican  com- 
mander-in-chief  was  with  the  force  below  them. 
He  held  a  brief  conference  with  his  Secretary 
of  War,  and  then  called  his  officers  together. 
His  words  were  concise  and  to  the  point.  His 
army  had  reached  the  Buffalo  Bayou,  opposite 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  191 

the  ruins  of  Harrisburg,  which  was  yet  smoking 
from  the  fires  lit  by  Santa  Anna.  To  his  men 
he  said:  "The  army  will  cross,  and  we  will 
meet  the  enemy.  Some  of  us  may  be  killed,  but, 
soldiers,  remember  the  Alamo,  and  remember 
Goliad." 

The  dogged  courage  which  had  borne  the  men 
up  during  the  long  privations  of  the  retreat 
from  the  Colorado,  now  flamed  into  a  burning 
thirst  for  victory  and  revenge.  The  bayou  was 
running  bank- full ;  but  here,  as  in  all  past  occa- 
sions, they  rode  over  every  obstacle  in  their  on- 
ward march  until  they  were  entrenched  in  a 
heavy  live-oak  grove  on  the  banks  of  the  bayou, 
near  Lynch 's  Ferry,  where  the  bayou  forms  a 
junction  with  the  San  Jacinto  River,  where 
Santa  Anna's  army  was  to  make  its  crossing. 
Forgetting  hunger  and  fatigue,  they  proceeded 
to  build  breastworks  and  plant  the  two  cannon. 
There  was  a  stretch  of  gently  rolling  prairie 
some  two  miles  wide.  At  its  farther  edges  lay 
the  marshes  of  the  San  Jacinto  River,  which 
extended  around  in  a  curve  to  the  south;  the 
horizon  was  bounded  by  the  timbers  growing  at 
the  river's  edge.  In  the  rear  of  the  live-oak 
grove,  with  its  great  curtains  of  weeping  Span- 
ish moss,  ran  the  sluggish,  muddy  waters  of  the 
Buffalo  Bayou.  The  two  cannon — ' i  the  twin  sis- 
ters " — had  been  planted  at  the  edge  of  the 
grove,  to  give  shelter  to  the  men  encamped  near 
them. 

Santa  Anna  had  completed  the  destruction  at 


192  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

New  Washington,  and  was  advancing  toward 
Lynch 's  Ferry,  when  he  learned  through  his 
scouts  of  the  close  proximity  of  the  Texan  army. 
For  the  moment  he  almost  lost  his  native  cun- 
ning, becoming  highly  excited  and  almost  creat- 
ing a  panic  among  his  men  by  his  half-distracted 
movements.  At  last,  when  he  had  recovered 
himself,  he  rallied  his  forces  and  formed  for  an 
attack,  advancing  upon  Houston's  forces.  All 
day  long  a  desultory  show  of  besieging  the 
Texan  troops  was  kept  up  by  Santa  Anna,  who 
kept  his  men  out  of  range  of  the  Texan  guns.  He 
tried  to  decoy  the  Texans  from  their  stronghold, 
but  Houston  refused  to  advance  for  an  engage- 
ment, and  defied  Santa  Anna  to  come  on. 
Nightfall  stopped  the  fighting,  and  the  Texans 
rested  under  double  guard.  The  next  day  Gen- 
eral Cos  joined  Santa  Anna,  with  a  force  of  five 
hundred  fresh  men.  Secretly,  Houston  dis- 
patched two  of  his  most  trusted  men  as  couriers, 
with  orders  to  take  axes  and  ride  to  Vince's 
Bayou,  and  cut  the  bridge  spanning  the  stream. 
Vince's  Bayou  was  a  stream  running  into  Buf- 
falo Bayou,  about  eight  miles  north  of  the  Texan 
camp,  and  over  which  both  armies  had  passed 
on  their  way  into  the  cul-de-sac. 

The  burning  of  the  bridge  cut  off  all  means 
of  retreat,  and  made  the  coming  battle  a  fight 
for  life  or  death.  In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon, 
about  half  past  three  o  'clock,  Houston  gave  or- 
ders for  his  troops  to  form  in  line  of  battle; 
the  Texan  army  had  no  music  save  a  drum  and 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  193 

fife,  and  while  the  troops  were  forming,  they 
struck  up  the  air  "Will  You  Come  Into  My 
Bower  ?" 

With  his  officers  heading  their  various  com- 
panies and  squadrons,  Houston  himself  leading 
the  center,  and  Eusk  the  left  wing,  and  with  the 
cannon  moved  farther  out  on  the  prairie,  the  or- 
der to  advance  was  given  at  four  o'clock.  The 
strong,  eager  faces  were  lit  up  by  the  afternoon 
sunlight  that  was  shining  full  in  their  eyes,  as, 
with  trailing  arms,  and  in  their  stained  and 
ragged  garments,  they  moved  forward.  As  they 
neared  the  enemy  their  pace  quickened  to  a  run, 
Houston  dashing  up  and  down  between  the  lines, 
his  tall  form  towering  like  a  giant,  waving  his 
old  white  hat,  and  shouting  and  cursing  and 
yelling  to  his  men  to  hold  fire  until  he  gave  the 
word.  The  two  couriers  dashed  up  at  this  junc- 
ture, shouting  at  the  pitch  of  their  voices,  "You 
must  fight  for  your  lives,  boys,  for  Vince's 
bridge  has  been  cut ! ' ' 

The  Texans  did  not  halt  until  they  were  at 
close  range,  then  firing  a  volley  upon  the  enemy, 
they  rushed  forward  with  terrific  yells,  the 
words  of  Houston  in  his  charge  ringing  down 
the  lines — "Remember  the  Alamol"  echoed 
back  up  the  lines  by  ' '  Remember  Goliad ! ' ' 

Santa  Anna  was  taken  by  surprise ;  the  noise 
of  the  yelling  horde  of  Texans,  as  they  made  the 
attack,  had  roused  him  from  the  enjoyment  of 
his  siesta  in  the  privacy  of  his  tent.  He  rushed 
out  to  discover  the  enemy  almost  at  the  door  of 


194  LA    BELLE    SAX    AXTONE 

his  tent.  He  yelled  savagely  to  liis  officers  to 
rally  their  men  into  line,  running  to  and  fro,  in 
a  half -frantic  state  of  mind,  and  swearing  like 
a  pirate.  His  entire  force  had  been  caught  in  a 
half-restful  mood  with  arms  stacked,  for  Santa 
Anna  had  given  up  all  idea  of  any  battle  for  the 
day.  The  cavalrymen  were  riding  bareback  to 
and  fro  watering  their  horses,  and  the  infantry 
were  busied  in  cutting  brush  and  making  more 
comfortable  quarters.  Dismayed  and  confused 
by  the  suddenness  of  the  attack,  the  Mexican 
troops  scattered  in  all  directions.  Santa  Anna 
seemed  to  have  lost  all  stratagem,  and  rushed 
about  in  a  crazed  and  half-distracted  manner, 
ordering  and  counter-ordering  his  officers.  His 
soldiers,  perceiving  his  excitement,  were  seized 
with  a  panic  and  began  rushing  pell-mell  over 
everything  in  a  mad  effort  to  make  their  escape. 

General  Castrillion  was  the  first  to  swing  his 
men  into  line,  and  face  the  oncoming  horde  of 
yelling  Texans.  The  panic  among  the  Mexican 
troups  was  subsiding,  but  before  they  had  thor- 
oughly planted  themselves  to  meet  the  attack, 
the  Texans  had  butted  their  rifles,  drawn  their 
bowie-knives,  and  plunged  into  the  mass. 

It  was  here  that  the  battle  was  fought  which 
gave  Texas  her  independence,  and  freed  her 
forever  from  the  tyranny  of  Mexican  rule ;  and 
it  was  here  that  Houston's  generalship  lifted 
him  from  the  humble  position  of  an  Indian  scout 
to  his  kinship  with  the  immortals.  All  time  was 
condensed  into  that  dav  and  that  hour  for  that 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  195 

small  army  of  Texans,  as  they  made  their  charge 
for  victory  and  for  revenge. 

When  the  battle  was  over  the  scene  was  ap- 
palling. The  Mexican  army  had  lost  heavily; 
the  dead  and  the  wounded  lay  thick  upon  the 
ground,  their  blood  saturating  the  turf;  rider- 
less horses  dashed  through  the  bruised  and  man- 
gled mass,  and  those  who  were  not  wounded 
were  scurrying  hard  to  make  their  escape. 

The  Texan  loss  was  very  small  in  proportion ; 
heretofore  it  had  been  defeat  at  every  turn,  but 
the  deeds  of  valor  this  day  would  ring  down  the 
annals  of  time  forevermore.  Nearly  all  of  the 
Mexicans  who  were  not  killed  or  wounded  were 
made  prisoners,  only  a  few  of  them  escaping. 

Santa  Anna,  with  his  wily,  fox-like  nature, 
eluded  the  enemy's  noose  for  several  hours,  but 
was  at  last  captured  by  a  scouting  party,  under 
Colonel  Theodore  Hackett,  and  brought  into 
Houston's  camp,  riding  double  behind  one  of 
the  men.  He  had  ventured  out  of  his  hiding 
place  to  reconnoiter,  and  as  he  was  creeping 
along  among  some  scrub  chaparral  growing  at 
the  crest  of  a  knoll,  he  was  spied  by  the  scouting 
party,  who  dashed  forward  and  captured  him. 
It  was  not  until  they  rode  into  camp  with  their 
prisoner  that  they  knew  it  was  the  chief  com- 
mander of  the  Mexican  army  they  held  in  cus- 
tody. They  believed  him  to  be  an  officer,  how- 
ever, as  his  fine  linen  and  jeweled  shirt  studs 
proved  him  to  be  above  the  ordinary  soldier. 
It  was  through  the  excited  cry  of  the  Mexican 


196  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

prisoners,  as  they  rode  into  camp  with  their 
captive,  that  the  Texans  first  learned  whom  they 
had  brought  back.  Kinging  through  the  timbers 
of  the  river  bottom,  and  floating  over  the 
marshes,  went  the  cry  "Viva  Santa  Anna! 
Viva  Santa  Anna!" 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

With  the  capture  of  Santa  Anna,  the  war  of 
Mexico  against  Texas  was  brought  to  a  close,  for 
peace  was  declared  soon  after  the  battle  of  San 
Jacinto,  under  measures  from  the  Mexican  gov- 
ernment, which  gave  Texas  full  independence, 
and  she  was  recognized  by  all  nations  as  an  inde- 
pendent republic.  Her  army  was  placed  under 
the  command  of  General  Houston,  and  her  state- 
craft was  in  the  hands  of  men  who  had  fought 
for  the  right  of  possession  of  the  soil  that  had 
been  stained  by  the  blood  of  their  slaughtered 
comrades. 

With  the  return  of  peace  to  the  country,  pros- 
perity soon  began  to  revive;  the  natural  re- 
sources and  great  productiveness  of  the  land 
gave  inducements  to  renewed  immigration;  and 
the  land  that  had  lain  so  long  in  the  grasp  of 
rapine  and  butcheries  lifted  herself  out  of  the 
conditions  that  had  enthralled  her,  and  proudly 
unfurled  her  hard-earned  banner  of  freedom  to 
the  breeze. 

Our  old  friend,  Theodore  Hackett,  was  mus- 
tered out  of  Houston's  army,  with  his  rugged  na- 
ture still  unimpaired.  Xamino  and  Fairfax  had 
fallen  with  the  Alamo,  but  they  left  sons  behind 
them  who  would  grow  into  manhood  and  enjoy 
the  peace  and  right  of  possession,  for  the  sak§  of 


198          LA  BELLI:  SAN  ANTONE 

which  the  country's  banner  had  been  baptized 
with  their  fathers'  blood. 

The  jealous  struggles  among  the  Liberal 
Party,  when  once  they  became  dictators  of  Mex- 
ico, had  disgusted  Xamino,  and  in  a  hot,  pas- 
sionate inood  he  had  left  Monterey,  returning  to 
San  Antonio  with  his  family,  where  he  made  his 
home.  He  and  Fairfax  had  given  their  lives  in 
defense  of  their  homes,  as  had  the  other  brave 
fellows  who  went  down  with  the  Alamo. 

Old  Don  Arguella  never  lived  to  see  the  down- 
fall of  royalty:  his  party  was  reigning  in  full 
power  at  the  time  he  passed  away,  and  Mexico 
had  not  yet  gained  her  freedom  from  Spain. 
Carmen  being  his  only  heir,  the  old  Arguella 
house  had  fallen  to  her,  and  it  was  here  that  the 
widow  of  Xamino  lived  and  reared  her  children 
after  the  new  republic  was  born.  She  was  her- 
self the  sole  instructor  and  supervisor  of  her 
children's  education;  and  in  the  strict  seclusion 
of  her  caste,  she  remained  a  distinct  living  repre- 
sentative of  the  old  regime  during  the  days  when 
San  Antonio  was  governed  by  the  Spaniards. 
Her  bitter  sorrow  over  the  unnatural  death  of 
her  husband  was  only  what  many  another 
woman  of  San  Antonio  had  suffered  in  days 
gone  by.  He  still  lived  within  her  heart  in 
sweetest  memory,  though  his  face  had  passed 
away  from  among  those  of  the  living;  in  the  face 
of  his  children  she  traced  again  the  befoved  fea- 
tures, whose  pathos  and  poetry  had  won  the  love 
of  her  life. 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  199 

The  old  Don  had  died  in  Monterey,  where  he 
had  gone  for  a  lengthened  stay  with  Xamino  and 
Carmen.  He  had  told  them,  when  dying,  of  a 
chest  of  Spanish  gold  buried  within  the  garden 
walls  at  his  home  in  Bexar,  but  his  directions 
were  so  unintelligible  that  the  treasure  was 
never  found,  and  those  who  looked  for  it  came 
to  think  of  the  story  as  a  dream  or  phantasy  of 
the  dying  man's  weakened  brain. 

Besides  money  left  him  at  the  old  viceroy's 
death,  Xamino  had  achieved  good  success  for 
himself;  and  it  was  with  a  vast  acreage  of  un- 
tilled  land,  some  money,  and  a  comfortable  home 
that  Senora  Xamino  found  herself  possessed  of 
when  she  was  left  to  face  the  future  alone,  until 
her  sons  were  old  enough  to  fill  their  father's 
place  in  the  management  of  her  affairs.  Not  the 
wealth  and  ease  she  had  once  been  accustomed 
to,  but  enough  so  that  she  need  not  enter  into  a 
hand-to-hand  struggle  with  poverty.  She  kept 
the  old  home  and  its  surroundings  intact  as  far 
as  possible,  the  wood-lawn  with  its  grand  old 
shade  trees,  and  the  old  court  with  its  beautiful 
plants  and  shrubs  and  vines  clambering  about 
the  pillars  of  the  porches,  open  to  the  summer 
breezes,  laden  with  the  perfume  of  the  sweet 
Castilian  roses.  They  all  brought  back  to  her 
sweetest  memories  of  bygone  days.  Now  all 
things  seemed  in  strange  hands  in  the  old  town, 
and  to  her  the  old  home  was  the  only  link  with 
the  past ;  she  clung  to  it  tenaciously,  and  sought 


200  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

in  every  way  she  could  to  preserve  its  old  fa- 
miliar characteristics. 

Fairfax  had  been  fairly  successful,  but  had 
achieved  no  great  heritage  of  wealth  to  leave  his 
only  son,  " Young  Allan, "  as  he  was  called 
among  the  drovers  at  the  Shackleford  ranch, 
where  he  and  his  mother  made  their  home  after 
his  father's  death.  It  was  a  strip  of  country 
that  had  been  left  almost  barren  after  the  de- 
structive raids  of  Santa  Anna,  whose  passing 
army  had  indulged  in  the  willful  slaughter  of 
cattle  and  horses,  as  well  as  men,  and  left  them 
to  rot  on  the  plains. 

It  is  in  and  around  the  Shackleford  ranch, 
and  the  country  to  the  west  of  San  Antonio  that 
the  closing  scenes  of  this  story  are  laid.  The 
Shackleford  ranch  lay  in  what  was  called  the 
North  Settlements,  a  barren,  bleak  district, 
whose  northern  boundaries  touched  the  foot  of 
the  "Estacado"  or  Staked  Plains;  the  southern 
boundaries  were  less  arid,  and  the  vegetation 
had  none  of  the  parched  and  seared  look  that 
comes  to  the  face  of  the  land  farther  to  the 
north.  Not  far  from  this  more  fertile  and  better 
watered  district  of  the  North  Settlements  ran 
the  old  military  road  leading  from  Monterey 
to  Nacogdoches,  and  it  was  from  this  highway 
that  the  settlers  received  all  news  or  trade  from 
the  outside  world.  The  old  St.  Louis  and  Santa 
Fe  military  and  trading  road  ran  too  far  to  the 
north  of  them  to  be  of  any  service. 

The  "Valley"  or  "South  Settlements"  were 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  201 

those  near  Hackett 's  ranch,  and  the  rich  valley 
lands  had  all  been  taken  up  by  the  first  comers 
until  there  had  been  nothing  left  i'or  the  later 
immigrants  but  the  arid  plains  to  the  north- 
ward. 

During  the  devastation  of  Santa  Anna's  pil- 
laging army,  the  settlers  had  fled  to  Bexar,  only 
to  be  struck  with  dismay,  which  scattered  them 
in  every  direction,  when  they  learned  that  he 
was  advancing  upon  the  town.  When  victory 
came,  and  independence  was  declared,  each  man 
returned  with  his  family  to  his  home,  save  those 
whose  lives  had  been  offered  as  a  sacrifice  upon 
the  altar  of  freedom.  The  home  of  our  friend 
Hackett  had  not  felt  the  pillaging  hand  as  heavily 
as  had  the  settlers  in  the  colonies  north  of  him. 
They  had  suffered  from  the  destructive  hand  of 
Santa  Anna's  army,  and  from  bands  of  wild, 
savage  Indians  also;  but  the  latter  had  done  but 
little  harm  to  Hackett,  for  it  was  known  among 
the  smaller  tribes  that  the  Comanches  were  his 
friends,  and  that  swift  punishment  would  be 
dealt  out  to  the  Indian  molesting  the  beeves 
and  mustangs  bearing  the  brand  of  the  "Big 
Sachem." 

Hackett  had  removed  his  wife  and  child  to  a 
place  of  safety,  left  his  cattle  on  the  range,  and 
the  round  corral  of  the  caballada,  with  its  snub- 
bing post  in  the  center,  was  left  idle  while  this 
absolute  master  of  this  pastoral  Spanish  grant 
went  to  join  his  force  of  some  thirty  caballeros 
from  his  ranch,  together  with  one  hundred  and 


LM)i>  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

seventy  mustered  soldiers  from  the  colonies 
north  of  him,  to  the  main  army  under  Houston, 
then  camped  on  the  Colorado  Eiver,  at  Beason  's 
Crossing. 

When  victory  was  won,  he  was  mustered  out 
of  service  and  returned  to  his  home,  expecting  to 
find  his  buildings  destroyed,  his  beeves  killed, 
and  little  left  but  his  land.  His  dwelling  had 
been  ransacked  and  everything  of  any  worth 
that  had  been  left  when  the  family  was  removed, 
was  gone,  the  doors  had  been  torn  off  the  hinges, 
leaving  the  openings  yawning  and  shutterless, 
but  the  main  building,  low-roofed,  rambling,  and 
commodious,  had  been  left  intact. 

Before  many  months  had  rolled  by,  the  indom- 
itable courage  of  Hackett  had  worked  a  marked 
change  for  the  better,  and  his  home  had  taken 
on  a  more  inviting  air. 

One  thing  had  left  a  sore  and  sad  sting  in  his 
heart,  and  that  was  the  loss  of  his  friend 
Xamino,  and  the  fate  that  had  befallen  him  and 
the  other  brave  men  who  had  perished  while  de- 
fending their  post  of  duty  and  waiting  for  help 
to  reach  them.  '  '  Oh  God !  If  I  had  only  heard 
of  their  helpless  condition  in  time  to  have 
reached  them  with  a  band  of  blood-thirsty  Co- 
manches!"  he  soliloquized,  when  brooding  in 
desperation  over  the  bloody  massacre. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

The  vast  expanse  of  gray  tableland  lay  still 
as  a  picture  in  the  throbbing  heat  of  the  noon 
sun,  up  where  the  northwest  boundaries  of  the 
two  western  colonies  met  and  blended.  From 
the  brazen  arch  of  the  sky  the  heat  poured  down 
from  a  hot  August  sun.  The  silence  of  waste 
places  held  the  gaunt,  sterile  land,  sapless  and 
Jean,  its  marks  of  disease  showing  in  the  white 
scurf  of  alkali  breaking  through  its  parched 
surface. 

A  chain  of  low,  rolling  sand  hills  lay  afar  in 
the  purpling  distance,  a  few  scattering  cacti,  and 
for  the  rest,  only  a  sparse,  drab-colored  growth 
of  sage  brush  and  a  few  tufts  of  buffalo  grass. 
In  the  dead  silence  and  isolation  of  the  scene 
there  was  but  one  point  of  life  to  meet  the  eye; 
from  a  large  knoll,  boldly  outlined  by  the  blue 
of  the  sky,  a  solitary  horseman  was  scanning  the 
horizon  to  the  west,  his  far-flung  gaze  sweeping 
over  the  barren  waste  before  him,  seeking  for 
some  trace  of  cattle  following  the  trail  leading 
to  the  watering  places  far  below.  With  patient, 
searching  gaze  he  turned  again  toward  the 
mighty  expanse  of  desert  land  to  the  north,  but 
not  a  sign  could  be  seen  of  that  which  his  eagle 
eye  sought;  he  looked  toward  the  distant  hills, 
but  not  a  wisp  of  smoke  from  far-away  camp 


204  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

fire,  not  a  trace  of  the  footprint  of  any  human 
being  met  his  eye — only  the  great,  vast  silence 
of  the  desert  was  over  all  the  scene,  only  the 
desert  winds  stirring  slightly,  which,  in  passing, 
touched  his  cheek  like  the  scorching  breath  from 
a  furnace.  As  he  sat  wrapped  in  this  complete 
silence,  the  sound  of  horses'  feet  upon  the  loose 
gravel  at  the  foot  of  the  slope  caused  him  to 
swing  round  in  swift  inquiry.  Soon  a  horseman 
appeared  in  the  open  at  the  foot  of  the  ridge 
below.  The  man  on  the  crest  of  the  knoll  rode 
swiftly  down  the  slope,  and  soon  the  two  were  in 
close  range.  The  man  riding  down  from  the 
knoll  sat  lightly  in  his  saddle  on  his  trained 
herder,  whose  footfall  was  as  light  as  that  of  a 
deer.  But  as  light  as  were  the  hoof-beats  of  his 
horse,  the  quick  ear  of  the  rider  in  the  open 
caught  the  sound,  and  turning  quickly,  the  two 
riders  faced  each  other  with  the  gaze  of  inquiry 
exchanged  at  the  meeting  of  travelers  on  the 
plains. 

The  herdsman  drew  a  sharp  breath,  and 
brought  his  pony  to  her  haunches,  as  he  discov- 
ered the  fact  that  the  rider  gazing  so  steadily  at 
him  was  a  young  woman.  She  sat  her  pony  man 
fashion,  and  wore  the  loose  garments,  horse- 
skin  boots,  and  heavy  spurs  used  by  the  desert 
riders  of  the  North  Settlements,  but  on  her  pony 
was  the  double-heart  brand  which  belonged  to 
the  Valley  Settlements.  The  riata  tied  so  com- 
pactly at  the  pommel  of  her  saddle,  the  leathern- 
covered  canteen,  the  sheath  knife  slanting  from 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  205 

behind  her  right  hip,  the  stirrups,  thorn-scarred 
and  weatherbeaten,  were  all  manlike.  A  soft 
knot  of  black  hair,  coiled  low  on  the  neck  under- 
neath a  man's  slouch  hat,  was  the  only  feminine 
touch  to  be  seen  in  her  dress.  Her  face  was  sun- 
tanned to  a  boyish  tinge  of  brown,  and  on  her 
soft  cheek  was  the  red  glow  of  a  ripe  peach 
kissed  by  an  August  sun.  She  viewed  him,  as 
they  faced  each  other,  with  that  alert  look  of 
buoyant  self-reliance  which  comes  from  facing 
the  problems  of  existence  as  they  arise  in  the 
trackless  desert  under  naked  skies. 

For  the  moment ' l  Young  Allan ' '  Fairfax — for 
he  was  still  " Young  Allan"  at  the  Shackleford 
ranch — felt  as  if  the  earth  were  moving  beneath 
him,  and  could  hardly  assure  himself  that  it  was 
really  he  looking  at  the  queer,  odd  creature  be- 
fore him.  A  sunstroke  from  the  desert  some- 
times made  men  go  mad;  was  he  suffering  from 
such  an  ailment?  Some  such  thought  flashed 
quickly  through  his  mind ;  but  suddenly  his  hand 
went  to  his  sombrero,  and  doffing  it  with  the  in- 
stinct of  the  courtier,  he  said,  in  a  half  question- 
ing way:  "Howdy?  Lost  your  way  V9  venturing 
both  the  salute  and  the  inquiry  at  the  same  time. 
She  stared  at  him  in  some  surprise  and  with 
cool  curiosity,  then  a  low,  free  laugh  escaped  her 
—this  child  of  the  desert,  who  could  ride  swift 
as  the  desert  winds.  Suddenly  her  eyes  flashed 
with  enthusiasm  and  she  gave  reply  to  his  ques- 
tion. 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

"As  if  I  were  ever  lost,  with  the  sun  and  the 
wind,  the  moon  and  the  stars  to  guide  me." 

' '  I  thought  you  were  a  boy  from  the  top  of  the 
hill  up  there, "  he  said,  jerking  his  head  back- 
ward. She  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  her  red 
lips  curved  with  contempt. 

'  '  I  am  as  good  as  any  boy ; ' '  patting  the  coils 
of  her  lasso  in  a  suggestive  manner  as  she  spoke. 

"And  a  thousand  times  better,"  replied  Allan, 
his  blood  tingling  with  admiration.  "But  it  is 
strange.  Do  the  other  girls  you  know  go  about 
in — in  men's  clothes!"  he  finally  ventured  to 
say. 

' i  I  don 't  know  any  girls. ' ' 

"None  round  about  your  district  but  your- 
self— all  women?" 

"There  is  only  one  I  know — the  senora,  my 
mother;  she's  at  home." 

"Dressed  like  that?" 

"No,  she  wears  dresses.  So  do  I  when  I  am 
at  home  with  her,  but  when  I  am  out  after  the 
cattle  with  the  padre,  I  am  like  I  am  now,"  she 
answered,  looking  down  at  the  toe  of  her  deer- 
skin boot,  and  then  turning  her  foot  sideways, 
letting  the  sun  glint  upon  her  small  steel  rolled 
spur.  His  pulses  quickened  as  he  took  in  the 
lithe,  unstudied  grace  of  her  every  movement, 
the  small  feet,  and  tapering  hand,  brown  as  an 
Indian  maid's. 

"Aren't  you  afraid  to  ride  alone!  The  In- 
dians might  scalp  you.  Where  is  your  father?" 

"Riding  his  section  of  the  round-up  as  I  am 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  207 

mine,"  she  replied,  looking  him  full  in  the  face, 
untroubled  by  the  consciousness  of  sex.  Allan 
let  his  pony  move  up  slowly  until  he  was  beside 
her.  "Your  pony  bears  one  of  the  Valley 
brands!"  he  ventured,  in  a  half -questioning 
tone. 

"And  we  come  from  the  Valley — both  Red 
Calf  and  his  rider;  our  home  is  in  the  Valley, 
where  my  father 's  sheep  and  cattle  graze  in  the 
winter,  but  when  the  spring  round-up  was  over 
there  were  lots  of  cattle  missing,  drifting  from 
the  Pecos'to  the  Cross  Timbers  of  the  North  Set- 
tlements, making  their  way  over  the  dry,  table 
lands, ' '  sweeping  her  hand  as  she  spoke,  toward 
the  vast  expanse  of  drab-colored  land  before 
them. 

"Some  day,  Senorita,  there  will  be  trouble  for 
you.  Aren't  you  afraid  of  the  greasers  infesting 
the  border,  and  stealing  and  rushing  cattle  over 
the  line?  They  might  cut  you  off  from  your 
friends  on  some  of  your  long  rides  and  capture 
you  and  carry  you  away. ' ' 

She  smiled,  as  she  silently  motioned  toward 
her  rifle  swinging  by  her  pony 's  side.  The  droop 
of  her  long  lashes  as  she  looked  down  at  her 
rifle,  the  full  red  lips  parted  and  showing  white, 
even  teeth,  lured  him  on.  He  came  still  a  pace 
closer,  full  of  admiration,  and  a  new  zest  in  life 
coursing  through  his  veins. 

"Take  care!"  she  cautioned,  sharply,  and  he 
stopped  short,  covered  with  confusion  at  his  un- 


208  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

witting    boldness.      "Bed    Calf    doesn't    like 
strangers. ' ' 

There  was  truth  in  her  words,  for  her  pony 
was  quietly  turning  away,  with  reefed  ears,  and 
a  wicked  eye  looking  over  the  head-stall,  meas- 
uring distance  like  a  range  finder.  Allan  swore 
softly  at  himself  for  his  dull  stupidity;  but  the 
next  moment  his  blood  bounded  in  his  veins,  as 
she  straightened  herself  in  the  saddle  and  mo- 
tioned toward  the  open  sweep  before  them,  a 
daring  smile  playing  over  her  face  as  though 
bantering  him  to  the  test  of  their  ponies '  speed. 
Away  over  the  gray  desert  waste,  swift  as  star- 
tled antelopes,  sped  the  two  horses,  their  noses 
stretched  forward  and  their  bodies  lengthened 
out  like  leathern  thongs.  Fairfax  restrained  his 
horse  at  the  outset  from  sheer  gallantry,  but 
soon  found  he  would  need  all  his  reserve  speed 
to  keep  up  in  the  race.  The  girl  threw  him  a 
backward  glance  as  she  rode  away  from  him,  her 
ringing  laugh  full  of  exultation  and  glee,  for  she 
felt  that  her  pony  had  not  yet  let  loose  his  best 
speed,  and  she  was  leading  in  the  race.  Allan 
settled  himself  a  little  more  firmly  in  his  saddle, 
and  ro welling  his  horse's  flank  with  his  steel 
spurs  he  went  forward  with  strong  swiftness. 
He  was  by  her  side — had  passed  her.  Suddenly 
she  flashed  past  him  like  a  bird  on  the  wing. 
Again  he  came  up  with  her,  and  again  she  rode 
away  from  him.  Then  bending  all  his  energies 
he  drove  his  horse  forward  with  renewed  speed, 
and  as  he  came  up  even  with  her  he  reached 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  209 

forth  his  hand  and  caught  her  pony's  bridle  at 
the  bit.  His  eyes  were  sparkling  with  the  spirit 
of  the  chase,  and  with  a  laugh  that  held  the  vic- 
tor's ring  he  said: 

" Captured !"  He  held  firmly  to  the  bridle; 
their  faces  were  close  together,  his  breath  almost 
fanning  her  cheek.  "How  lucky  for  you,  Se- 
norita,  it  is  not  a  Comanche  who  has  captured 
you!"  She  drew  out  her  sheath  knife  and 
reached  forward  to  cut  the  bridle  at  the  bit. 

"The  Comanches  are  my  father's  friends," 
she  quietly  remarked.  Allan  read  her  intentions ' 
by  her  movements  and  quickly  loosened  his  hold 
upon  her  bridle.  ' t  The  Comanche  Indians  never 
bother  my  father's  cattle  and  sheep,  and  they  all 
know  I  am  his  daughter.  He  made  friends  with 
them  long  ago,  for  he  was  the  first  white  man 
to  settle  among  them  down  there  in  the  valley." 

"The  'Big  Sachem'?"  questioned  Allan,  ex- 
citedly, as  he  leaned  eagerly  forward. 

"The  'Big  Sachem,'  "  reiterated  the  girl. 

"Then  you  are — are — Miss  Hackett,"  con- 
tinued her  questioner,  as  he  gallantly  lifted  his 
hat. 

"Miss  Hackett,"  she  repeated  after  him,  giv- 
ing him  a  sideways  glance  from  her  great  dark 
eyes. 

"Then  you  are  not  of  Spanish  blood,  as  I  first 
thought  ? ' '  queried  her  interrogator. 

"My  grandfather,  Jose  Mendoza,  of  San  An- 
tonio, came  from  Spain;  my  grandmother  was 
Spanish  and  Mextica  Indian,"  the  girl  replied. 


210  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

"Do  you  ride  often  like  this  after  the  cattle, 
senorita  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  but  I  seldom  come  so  far  north;  I  tend 
mostly  the  herd  in  the  valley.  When  the  cattle 
are  drifting  the  padre  keeps  with  his  men,  and 
I  always  go  where  the  padre  leads. ' ' 

They  had  left  the  dry  tablelands  for  a  stretch 
of  rolling  green,  leading  to  the  southward.  Sud- 
denly the  girl  cast  an  upward  glance  at  the  sun, 
then  at  the  shadows  their  horses  cast  upon  the 
turf  over  which  they  were  passing.  "Noon- 
time/* she  remarked,  speculatively.  "Guess 
we  will  find  some  water  soon. ' ' 

"It  is  all  tainted  with  alkali  around  these 
regions.  My  canteen  is  full;  how  is  yours! " 

"Half  empty,"  she  replied,  "but  I  see  some 
dry  grass  and  brush  wood  over  there, ' '  pointing 
to  where  a  growth  of  sage  brush  gave  encourage- 
ment for  the  -noon  camp-fire.  When  they  came 
to  the  place,  Allan  gathered  the  dry  brash  weeds 
for  her  and  started  the  fire,  and  then  led  their 
horses  to  a  patch  of  green,  where  they  were 
staked  to  graze  while  dinner  was  being  pre- 
pared. When  he  came  back  to  the  fire  he  found 
the  girl  busy  about  her  saddle,  drawing  out 
cooking  utensils  and  provisions  from  unimagin- 
able stow-away  places,  all  rolled  up  and  tied  fast 
in  the  folds  of  her  sleeping  blanket,  which  she 
carried  strapped  to  the  back  of  her  saddle.  He 
was  madly  in  love  with  her  already,  and  knew 
it  deep  within  his  heart.  How  he  admired  the 
little  brown  hands  as  they  moved  about  so  dex- 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  211 

terously !  By  putting  their  stock  of  supplies  to- 
gether she  soon  prepared  a  tempting  meal,  and 
they  sat  down  side  by  side  to  partake  of  the 
food,  sitting  flat  upon  the  ground,  with  legs 
doubled  under  and  backward  to  form  a  seat. 
They  ate  with  zest,  for  their  appetite  had  been 
sharpened  by  several  long  hours  of  hard  riding. 
Between  times,  however,  Allan  made  good  his 
opportunity  to  find  out  more  about  this  strange 
product  of  the  feminine  world.  It  suddenly 
dawned  upon  the  girl  that  she  did  not  know  his 
name,  and  looking  up  from  her  work  at  the  fire 
of  readjusting  the  stick  upon  which  the  dough 
of  their  bread  was  cooking,  she  asked :  ' l  Senor, 
who  is  the  stranger  coming  down  from  the  North 
Settlements?" 

"  Allan  Fairfax,  or  '  Young  Allan/  as  they  call 
me  about  the  ranch. ' ' 

She  gave  him  a  swift,  startled  look,  rested  her 
elbows  upon  her  knees,  and  for  the  moment  was 
quiet,  then  looking  up  at  him  she  spoke  in  a 
gentler  tone. 

' '  Your  father  was  killed  in  the  storming  of  the 
Alamo?" 

"He  was,"  replied  Allan. 

' '  Then  you  are  no  common  caballero,  but  Lieu- 
tenant Fairfax,  of  one  of  the  State  ranger  com- 
panies," declared  the  girl,  now  fully  excited. 

"The  same  man,  and  he  who  is  so  bitterly 
hated  by  the  cattle  rustlers  of  the  border." 

She  was  listening  to  him,  and  watching  his 
face  as  he  spoke;  there  was  a  bitterness  in  his 


212  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

tones  and  she  detected  it.  She  was  the  next  to 
voice  her  thoughts,  and  she  sought  to  lead  him 
away  from  his  memories. 

'  'My  father's  best  friend  was  killed  at  the  tak- 
ing of  the  Alamo."  She  looked  away,  as  she 
spoke,  to  where  the  foothills  folded  back  one 
upon  the  other  into  cool,  blue  shadows.  Soon 
she  broke  from  her  musings,  looked  with  her 
great  soft,  dark  eyes  into  his  face,  and  said: 
'  *  They  say  the  older  son,  Antone  Arguella 
Xamino,  is  like  his  father;  I  have  seen  him;  he 
comes  out  to  my  father's  hacienda  often,  and 
sometimes  he  rides  the  lines  with  us  in  search 
of  the  cattle. " 

Allan  Fairfax  felt  a  twinge  of  jealousy  twitch- 
ing at  his  heart  strings,  but  gave  no  evidence  of 
his  feelings  by  his  outward  manner.  "Does  he 
always  call  you  Miss  Hackett  T '  he  questioned,  a 
quiet  smile  playing  over  his  face,  and  a  look  of 
playful  banter  shining  in  his  blue  eyes. 

'  *  No,  I  am  called  Chiketa  by  every  one  on  the 
ranch,  but  my  mother  had  me  christened  by  the 
good  old  Fray  Garcia,  down  at  the  old  mission, 
under  the  name  of  Emanuella  Norveta  Mendoza 
Hackett." 

"A  long  but  a  pretty  name,  senorita.  And  so 
they  call  you  Chiketa  about  your  father's  ranch; 
that  means  ' little  one'  in  Spanish,"  remarked 
Allan,  as  he  looked  at  her  feet  and  hands  and 
thought  how  well  the  name  suited  her. 

"Look!"  exclaimed  the  girl  in  excited  tones, 
pointing  as  she  spoke  toward  the  distant  line  of 


LA    BELLE    SAN   ANTONE  213 

the  low-lying  hills.  He  turned,  and  looking  in 
the  direction  whence  she  pointed,  saw  a  big 
smoke  arising  from  the  foothills. 

"The  padre  has  found  cattle  and  is  calling  for 
help,"  she  cried. 

Hastily  she  began  putting  her  camping  uten- 
sils in  place,  folded  them  back  within  the  blan- 
ket, and  rolled  and  strapped  the  bundle  tightly 
in  its  accustomed  place  at  the  back  of  her  saddle. 
Allan  had  brought  in  their  ponies  from  their 
grazing  by  the  time  she  had  finished  putting 
away  the  camp  regalia,  and  together  they  sad- 
dled their  horses  and  made  ready.  The  girl  ex- 
amined the  girth  of  her  sadle  closely,  then  swung 
herself  swiftly  into  her  saddle,  taking  her  seat 
with  the  alertness  of  a  veteran  of  the  range. 

Fairfax,  while  saddling  his  own  horse,  had 
watched  her  rapid  movements  with  admiring 
glances.  He  would  have  ridden  with  her  to  the 
distant  hills,  but  she  shook  her  head  when  he 
turned  his  horse's  head  in  that  direction.  "Not 
to-day  senor,"  she  said;  "but  some  day,  if  you 
should  ever  come  to  the  Montezuma  Ranch,  we 
will  try  another  race.  Red  Calf  will  be  rested 
then,  and  I'll  bet  you  he  will  beat  your  cayuse 
by  a  whole  furlong. ' ' 

Digging  her  pony's  side  with  her  little  spurs, 
she  sprang  into  a  long,  easy  canter.  Without 
once  looking  backward  she  left  him,  and  urging 
her  horse  she  made  for  the  distant  camp-fire, 
and  toward  the  foothills.  Fairfax  looked  after 
her  until  she  became  a  mere  speck  on  the  hori- 


214  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

zon,  then  turning  his  horse's  head  he  rode  north- 
ward, letting  his  bridle  swing  loose  with  the 
wind,  and  leaving  his  pony  to  find  his  own  way 
home  in  a  long,  swinging  gallop,  while  his  mind 
was  still  with  the  strange  girl  who  had  shared 
her  food  from  the  grub-sack  with  him,  and  who 
had  cooked  his  dinner  for  him  back  there  at  the 
camp-fire,  with  no  thought  of  sex  troubling  her 
mind,  her  cheek  and  eyes  aglow  with  the  fire  of 
youth,  health,  and  beauty. 


CHAPTER   XX 

"How  sweet  at  eve  the  lover's  lute 
Chimes,  when  the  grove  is  mute, 
And  when  the  midnight  moon  should  lave 
Her  forehead  in  the  silver  wave." 

The  full  southern  moon  poured  down  its  light 
from  the  blue  sky  on  the  wide,  lonely  plain.  The 
dry,  sandy  earth,  the  stunted  growth  of  chap- 
arral, the  mesquite  trees,  and  the  low-Jying  hills 
that  skirted  the  plain,  were  all  touched  with  a 
weird  beauty  as  they  lay  in  the  white  radiance. 

Near  the  center  of  the  plain  the  monotony  was 
broken  by  a  ranch  house  with  its  attendant  out- 
buildings. It  was  the  Shackleford  ranch,  and  it 
stood  alone  amid  all  the  solemn  stillness.  From 
the  rich,  succulent  mesquite  grass  that  defies 
drouth,  an  occasional  clump  of  prickly-pear 
lifted  thorny  arms  and  reflected  the  silvery 
moonlight  from  its  broad,  fleshy  leaves.  The 
moonlight  crept  along  the  old  stockade  enclosure 
and  the  fence  enclosing  the  cow-pen,  the  great 
open  wagon-house,  and  the  cattle  corral,  baptiz- 
ing the  whole  scene  with  a  quiet,  peculiar  bright- 
ness that  shone  like  burnished  silver,  and  rest- 
ing like  a  benediction  upon  the  ranch  with  its 
attendant  buildings,  and  upon  the  wide,  lonely 
plain. 

About  the  door-yard  of  the  ranch  house  grew 


216  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

a  couple  of  majestic  elms  and  a  few  mesquite 
trees,  which  gave  shade  from  the  hot  noon-tide 
sun.  The  corrals,  horse-lots,  and  cow-pens  were 
also  shaded  by  a  scattering,  irregular  growth  of 
low-spreading  mesquite  trees,  their  fine,  pale- 
green  foliage  glinting  in  the  flood  of  silvery 
moonlight.  Stretched  at  full  length  upon  his 
blanket  under  the  shade  trees  outside  the  door 
rests  Lieutenant  Fairfax.  His  leave  of  absence 
is  almost  over,  for  to-morrow  he  is  to  return  to 
his  company  at  the  old  fort  out  there  on  the 
border.  He  realizes  all  this,  and  he  is  thinking 
of  to-morrow  as  he  lies  on  his  blanket  flat  upon 
his  stomach ;  his  arms  are  folded,  forming  a  pil- 
low upon  which  his  head  is  resting,  but  he  is  not 
sleeping,  he  is  wide  awake,  thinking,  thinking 
of  the  girl  he  saw  last  as  she  rode  away  toward 
the  distant  hills.  A  hundred  times  and  more 
had  he  gone  over  each  incident  that  happened 
during  the  short  hour  they  were  together  par- 
taking of  their  noon  meal.  He  had  half  resolved 
to  give  up  his  company  and  come  back  to  the 
ranch,  for  in  riding  the  lines  with  the  gaucherros, 
as  he  used  to  do,  he  might  meet  her  again.  Pie 
knew  how  to  reach  her  father's  ranch.  Yes,  he 
could  make  some  excuse,  plausible  enough,  to 
take  him  there.  "But  that  Mexican  might  be 
there, "  he  told  himself,  and  nothing  did  Lieu- 
tenant Fairfax  hate  as  much  as  he  hated  a  Mex- 
ican. 

"At  the  thought  of  him  even  the  tone  of  her 
voice  grew  softer,  and  that  gentleness  of  tone 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  217 

that  always  tells  a  woman's  secret!"  He  had 
recalled  the  gentle  look  that  had  crept  into  the 
girl 's  face  when  speaking  of  Antone  Xamino. 

Growing  restless  under  his  musings  he  sat 
erect,  filled  his  pipe  with  tobacco,  lit  it  and  be- 
gan smoking;  his  feet  were  drawn  backward  and 
his  hands  interlocked  about  his  knees.  The 
smoke  rolled  away  in  clouds  as  he  puffed  at  his 
pipe,  and  soon  the  nicotine  began  soothing  his 
highly  strung  nerves. 

"It  will  all  smooth  over  with  time,"  he  told 
himself,  as  he  finished  smoking,  emptied  his  pipe 
and  put  it  aside  to  cool;  then  throwing  himself 
upon  his  blanket  he  was  soon  sound  asleep.  The 
moon  sailed  on  in  the  heavens,  sifting  her  light 
through  the  leaves  of  the  branches  above  the 
sleeper  as  he  lay  dreaming  of  dark-eyed  maidens, 
fleet-limbed  cayuses,  and  hurtling  herds.  Its  sil- 
very bars  fell  across  the  threshold  of  the  door 
the  housewife  had  left  open  to  admit  the  cool 
night  breeze.  From  the  tree  underneath  which 
the  sleeper  lay  came  the  hot  cicada's  sultry  cry. 
On  a  bed  in  the  corner  of  one  of  the  rooms  with- 
in, the  good  housewife  rolled  and  tumbled  in  a 
restless  and  uneasy  sleep,  beating  the  air  at  in- 
tervals with  a  dried  turkey  wing  to  strengthen 
the  lifting  night  breeze.  The  ranch  hands  were 
all  sleeping,  curled  in  their  blankets  beneath  the 
stars,  out  near  the  stockade,  while  a  picket  stood 
guard,  keeping  watch  for  marauding  Indians. 
From  afar  off  could  be  heard  the  distant  howl- 


218  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

ing  of  a  pack  of  coyote  wolves,  prowling  over  the 
prairie  in  search  of  food. 

At  the  first  peep  of  day  the  housewife  arose 
from  her  uneasy  bed  to  assume  her  routine  of 
daily  household  duties ;  the  men  outside  crawled 
from  beneath  their  blankets;  the  chickens  were 
cackling  about  the  barnyard ;  and  old ' '  Saucer, ' ' 
the  leader  of  a  pack  of  hounds,  was  smiling  in  at 
the  doorway  of  the  kitchen  at  his  mistress,  hop- 
ing to  get  a  stray  crust  or  bone.  Before  the 
breakfast  was  ready  Lieutenant  Fairfax  had 
made  his  brief  morning  toilet  by  a  vigorous  face 
and  neck  bath  at  the  trough  by  the  well,  combed 
his  hair  with  his  pocket  comb,  brushed  his 
trousers,  crumpled  and  wrinkled  from  sleeping 
in  them  all  night,  and  then  went  to  the  kitchen, 
where  his  mother  was  preparing  the  morning 
meal.  She  looked  up  from  her  task  of  pouring 
the  hot  grease  over  the  eggs  she  was  frying  as 
his  form  darkened  the  doorway,  and  welcomed 
him,  saying: 

11  Ah,  my  lad,  you  are  looking  bright  as  a  June 
morning,  and  to-day  is  the  day  you  are  to  leave 
home  again  for  that  bloody  fort." 

He  had  come  to  her  side  and  stood  watching 
her  movements  as  she  lifted  the  perfectly  turned 
eggs  on  to  the  platter.  He  smiled  an  indulgent 
smile  as  he  stooped  and  kissed  her  cheek,  and 
then  reaching  for  the  platter  of  eggs  he  carried 
them  to  the  table,  and  together  they  sat  down  to 
eat  their  breakfast  alone,  before  the  rest  of  the 
family  joined  them.  These  consisted  of  Allan's 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  219 

grandfather,  and  his  uncle,  young  Ben  Shackle- 
ford,  who  was  the  real  lord  and  master  of  the 
heath.  He  was  a  stocky-built  fellow,  brusque  in 
his  manner,  but  kind  and  considerate  of  his  men 
about  the  ranch  and  on  the  range.  He  had  never 
married,  fearing  to  bring  a  wife  lest  his  widowed 
sister  with  her  child  might  not  feel  free  to  re- 
main and  make  her  home  with  him.  Allan  had 
grown  to  manhood  around  his  feet,  and  he  loved 
him  as  his  own.  This  freak  of  Allan  in  joining 
the  Rangers  had  been  a  sore  spot  in  his  heart, 
but  he  had  come  to  look  upon  the  fact  with  indul- 
gence, hoping  to  see  the  day  come  when  he  would 
resign  and  come  back  to  his  place  on  the  ranch. 

"Ah,  it's  the  fiery  blood  of  his  father  that 
drives  the  lad  out  o'  the  common  rut !"  declared 
"daddy"  Shack]  eford,  in  quavering  tones,  as 
he  looked  after  the  handsome  young  Ranger  as 
he  rode  away  from  them,  while  they  stood  at  the 
picket  gate  watching  him. 

A  sigh  escaped  the  mother  as  she  turned  away 
toward  the  house;  and  to  forget  her  loneliness  in 
the  absence  of  her  boy,  she  followed  busy  feet 
and  hands  all  that  day.  "How  like  his  father  he 
has  grown  to  look,"  she  told  herself  each  time 
she  recalled  the  way  he  sat  his  saddle,  and  the 
easy  grace  with  which  he  bent  to  the  motion  of 
his  horse  in  its  long,  swinging  gallop.  In  front 
of  the  house  stood  the  old  grub  wagon  that  had 
done  service  for  years,  with  the  barrel  securely 
fastened  to  one  side,  the  grub-box  stationed  in 
the  hindmost  end  of  the  bed.  Astride  the  tongue 


220  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

of  the  wagon  sat  one  of  the  hands,  mending  his 
saddle  and  singing  to  himself  as  he  worked; 
others  were  busy  overhauling  piles  of  pickets 
and  mending  weakened  places  in  the  long  stock- 
ade ;  while  still  others  were  busy  braiding  lariats 
and  hopples  out  of  cowhide  that  had  been  rubbed 
and  grained  until  it  was  pliable.  The  hands 
were  getting  ready  gradually  for  the  fall  round- 
up and  winter  line-riding. 

As  Lieutenant  Fairfax  saw  with  a  backward 
glance  the  ranch  and  its  branding  pens  and  cor- 
rals disappear  from  his  sight,  he  settled  himself 
in  his  saddle,  shook  out  the  tapedaros  of  his  stir- 
rups, and  digging  his  pony  with  his  big  Spanish 
spurs,  struck  out  across  country  over  the  plain, 
making  his  way  westward,  leaving  behind  him 
the  headquarters  ranch.  That  night  he  slept  at 
the  foreman 's  hut  on  Trail  Creek,  a  stream  which 
came  down  out  of  a  canyon,  and  which  lay  more 
than  sixty  miles  away  from  the  main  ranch.  The 
following  day  about  noon  he  rode  into  Fort 
Stockton,  beyond  the  Pecos  River. 

A  very  different  scene  greets  our  eyes  as  we 
come  to  the  Montezuma  ranch,  leaving  the  glim- 
mering plain  lying  in  a  drowsy,  trance-like  quiet. 
There  are  other  ranches  scattered  about  in  the 
Pecos  and  Nueces  valleys,  but  none  hold  for  us 
the  charm  that  lingers  about  the  home  of  our  old 
veteran  hero,  who  smokes  his  pipe  beneath  the 
huge  live-oak  that  shades  his  door-yard,  and  re- 
calls days  gone  by.  He  has  passed  through  three 
revolutions  and  is  nearing  his  seventieth  year, 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  221 

is  still  hearty,  hale,  and  stout,  much  of  which  he 
attributes  to  his  outdoor  life  on  the  open  plain. 
He  fought  with  the  Mexicans  in  their  revolt 
against  Spain,  aided  the  Texans  in  their  revolt 
against  Mexico,  and  served  in  the  war  between 
the  United  States  and  Mexico.  Kind  of  heart, 
genial  in  nature,  brave,  cool,  and  sagacious,  he 
had  accomplished  what  he  had  set  out  to  do,  had 
buffeted  the  world  and  not  suffered  it  to  buffet 
him.  The  "golden  fleece"  was  his;  he  had  opu- 
lence and  enjoyed  his  ease,  and  while  Le  slept 
his  wealth  doubled  itself,  for  his  cattle  spread 
everywhere  from  the  Sabine  to  the  Pecos.  His 
heart  is  still  as  full  of  that  deep,  abiding  love  for 
his  wife,  as  in  the  days  when  he  first  met  her 
beside  the  old  well  in  the  town  of  de  Bajar. 
There  is  that  about  him  of  a  life  that  had  been 
lived  clean,  sweet,  and  strong;  the  gleam  of  the 
master  still  shines  brightly  in  his  eyes,  and  he 
has  the  air  of  having  mastered  himself  as  well 
as  others  and  all  kinds  of  conditions.  Far  away 
the  prairie  billows  gleam  in  the  glow  of  the 
morning  sunshine  which  rests  like  a  blessing 
upon  the  level  splendor  of  tender  green.  The 
breath  of  wild  pinks  that  burst  in  crimson  flare 
over  the  prairie  is  borne  to  him  upon  the  breeze 
that  fans  his  cheek.  Where  the  level  surface 
dips,  the  fennel  flaunts  a  flood  of  flowery  gold ; 
the  air  is  resonant  with  sleepy,  summery  sounds ; 
the  lisping  of  the  breeze,  the  butterflies,  wheel- 
ing in  swift  and  flashing  rings,  looking  like  fly- 
ing flowers,  the  song  of  birds  among  the  trees — 


222  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

all  lull  him  into  a  peaceful  repose,  and  loosening 
liis  mental  hold  upon  his  surroundings  he  drops 
into  a  quiet,  gentle  slumher. 

The  old  stone  house  has  been  built  anew,  the 
main  living-rooms  being  the  body  of  the  old 
house,  with  wide  hallways  and  deep  verandas. 
The  stone  had  been  quarried  on  Hackett's  own 
ground,  and  he  himself  had  supervised  the  build- 
ing of  his  own  house,  utilizing  the  strength  of  the 
small  company  of  peons  under  his  dictatorship. 
Tree,  shrub,  and  flower  lent  their  aid  to  the 
beauty  of  the  place.  Down  in  the  old  garden,  be- 
neath the  spreading  tree  where  old  Emanuella 
Mendoza  sleeps,  two  more  graves  show  beneath 
the  sod.  Close  by  her  side  sleeps  the  first  born, 
little  Emanuella,  whose  grave  is  tended  by  the 
second  sister,  bearing  the  same  name ;  the  other 
is  the  grave  of  Big  Wolf,  the  red  child  of  the 
desert. 

Age  has  marred  much  of  the  symmetrical 
beauty  of  Norveta  Mendoza 's  superb  form,  but 
there  are  still  to  be  seen  about  her  traces  of  her 
girlish  simplicity,  and  the  dark,  rich  beauty  that 
had  maddened  Captain  Cortez  and  won  the  heart 
of  the  only  man  she  had  ever  loved. 

To  the  east  of  the  ranch  the  waving  woodlands 
look  like  low-hung  clouds.  Here  flows  the  Nue- 
ces  Eiver.  Leading  westward  from  the  line  of 
timber  is  the  wide  prairie,  whose  swelling  undu- 
lations are  covered  with  a  lavish  growth  of  wild 
flowers  each  succeeding  summer.  Down  the 
river  about  a  mile  is  the  foreman's  cabin;  here 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  223 

also  are  the  branding  pens  and  cattle  corrals, 
and  it  is  here  that  the  hands  working  the  range 
congregate,  the  old  double  log-cabin  serving  for 
shelter  from  rain  and  storm,  and  here  that  the 
camp  cook  prepares  their  meals  for  them. 

To  the  south  of  the  main  resident  buildings  lay 
the  fields  where  grew  the  produce  that  supplied 
this  thrifty  ranchman's  household.  It  was  here 
that  the  peons  tended  the  fields  of  maize,  peas, 
potatoes,  tobacco,  and  smaller  garden  produce. 
On  the  uplands  to  the  northwest,  the  shepherds 
tended  the  sheep.  There  was  no  stockade  about 
any  of  his  buildings,  for  the  mightiest  tribe  of 
Indians  roaming  those  western  plains  were  his 
friends,  and  the  renegade  white  thieves  and  cat- 
tle rustlers,  whose  fingers  itched  for  spoils, 
smothered  their  longings  and  stayed  their  hands, 
because  of  the  swift  punishment  that  had  been 
meted  put  to  some  of  their  bolder  comrades,  who 
had  tried  the  hazard  of  encroaching  upon  the 
"Big  Sachem,"  now  sleeping  so  peacefully  be- 
neath the  shade  of  the  huge  live-oak,  with  the 
sweet  breath  of  the  morning  breeze  playing 
about  him. 

A  sudden  clatter  of  horses '  feet,  dashing  along 
the  highway,  aroused  the  sleeper,  who  smiled  in 
his  wakening  at  the  sound  of  a  merry  peal  of 
girlish  laughter,  followed  by  the  deep  tones  of  a 
man's  voice  whose  speech  bore  a  strong  Spanish 
accent,  as  he  challenged  his  comrade  for  another 
race. 

"No,  Antone,  your  cayuse  is  no  match  for  Eed 


224  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

Calf;  better  hopple  the  poor  brute  out  on  the 
grass  and  saddle  up  a  fresh  one. ' ' 

The  man  laughed  at  her  raillery  in  a  good- 
natured  way,  as  he  vaulted  from  his  saddle  and 
opened  the  gate  for  her  to  ride  into  the  yard. 

4 Must  keep  on  snoozing  padre.  Antone  did 
look  so  funny  a-hangin'  onto  the  back  of  that 
buckin'  cayuse,  that  I  couldn't  keep  from 
laughin',"  the  girl  exclaimed. 

Throwing  the  bridle  reins  over  her  pony's 
neck,  she  left  him  to  feed  upon  the  grass,  and 
taking  Antone  by  the  hand  she  led  him  toward 
her  father  where  he  still  sat  in  the  big  chair 
under  the  shade  tree.  Her  face  was  covered  with 
smiles  as  she  suppressed  her  laughter,  and  she 
bowed  low  as  she  said:  "I'll  introduce  to  you 
Mr.  Antone  Xamino,  the  great  broncho  buster. ' ' 
Releasing  her  captive  she  flung  her  arms  about 
her  father's  neck  and  began  telling  him  of  their 
long  ride  and  the  hairbreadth  escapes  of  Antone, 
with  the  fiery  mustang  he  was  breaking. 

Two  women  came  out  on  the  veranda  at  the 
sound  of  the  merriment  under  the  trees.  They 
were  Senora  Hackett  and  her  friend,  Dona 
Xamino,  from  San  Antonio,  who,  with  her  two 
sons,  was  making  her  accustomed  yearly  visit  to 
her  friends  on  the  ranch. 

Antone,  finding  himself  released,  dropped 
upon  the  ground,  sitting  with  his  feet  doubled 
under  him,  camp  fashion,  and  began  fanning 
himself  vigorously  with  his  wide-brimmed  hat. 
His  disheveled  hair  and  loosened  collar  and  cuffs 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  225 

gave  signs  of  the  great  exertion  through  which 
he  had  just  passed. 

"Couldn't  you  stick  him,  Antone?"  ques- 
tioned Hackett,  as  he  gave  vent  to  a  half-lazy 
laugh  from  the  depths  of  his  big,  rawhide-bot- 
tomed chair. 

' '  Yes,  I  stuck  him — but  oh ! ' '  shaking  his  head 
ruefully  and  looking  down  between  his  feet  with 
a  deep  groan  of  affected  misery. 

The  girl  had  disappeared  from  the  group,  and 
as  she  rounded  the  corner  of  the  house  she  made 
for  the  kitchen  where  old  black  Mandy  was  pre- 
paring dinner. 

"I  am  hungry  as  a  wolf,  Mandy;  give  me 
something  to  eat." 

"Lor'  bless  my  life,  chile,  don't  cum  a-boder- 
ing  me ;  dis  chicken  pie  mus'  git  in  de  oven,  er  de 
quality  won't  hab  no  dinnah,"  said  Mandy.  But 
when  the  girl  came  forth  from  the  kitchen  she 
carried  a  generous  slice  of  bread  and  butter. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

"Oh  give  me  a  home,  where  the  buffalo  roam, 

Where  the  deer  and  the  antelope  play, 
Where  never  is  heard  a  discouraging  word, 
And  the  sky  is  not  cloudy  alway." 

So  sang  the  blithe  voice  of  one  among  a  large 
bunch  of  cowboys  who  were  rallying  around  the 
camp  fire  at  the  foreman 's  cabin  on  Trail  Creek, 
waiting  for  their  evening  meal,  and  nagging 
Miss  Sallie,  the  cook — so  called  on  account  of 
the  feminine  trend  of  his  present  occupation. 
They  belonged  to  the  Shackleford  ranch,  and 
were  congregated  here  to  receive  orders  from 
the  foreman. 

Some  were  planning  for  a  winter's  rusticating 
in  town,  while  others  were  busy  mending  lariats, 
hopples,  and  saddles.  These  wrere  the  fellows 
who  were  to  remain  with  the  cattle  through  the 
winter  to  keep  them  from  "drifting"  when  the 
northers  began  to  blow  over  the  range,  carrying 
their  blizzards  of  sleet  and  cold,  nipping  at  the 
hides  of  the  cattle,  and  driving  them  to  seek 
shelter  in  the  cedar  brakes  and  in  the  timber 
along  the  streams.  These  men  who  remained 
were  the  "trusties";  those  going  were  the  boys 
who  worked  on  the  range  during  the  spring  and 
summer  round-ups.  Merrily  the  cowboy  sang, 
and  right  merrily  did  his  comrades  chaff  him  in 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  227 

half-bantering  tones.  Pete  Burrows,  a  sort  of 
spokesman  for  the  younger  crowd  of  boys,  ven- 
tured the  remark:  "You'll  not  feel  quite  so 
frisky  when  the  cussed  redskins  make  you  slip 
your  cayuse  into  his  best  mettle  to  save  your 
scalp. " 

6  i  To  h—  -  with  the  redskins ;  who 's  af eard  uv 
a  herd  like  'em!"  returned  the  singer. 

His  words  reached  the  ears  of  Buck  Jennings, 
the  foreman,  who  was  busily  engaged  talking  to 
a  big  fellow  who  sat  upon  the  ground  mending 
his  saddle  and  talking  with  the  foreman  about 
the  scare  the  redskins  were  just  then  giving  the 
settlers.  "It  hain't  goin'  to  be  much  uv  a  flare- 
up,"  said  he;  "the  devils  may  run  off  a  lot  uv 
beef  cattle,  but  it's  the  wimmen  and  children 
I'm  a  thinkin'  uv  more'n  the  cattle." 

There  was  a  troubled  and  half-serious  look 
shadowing  the  foreman's  face;  he  was  wonder- 
ing to  himself  if  he  was  doing  just  the  wisest 
thing  in  letting  so  many  of  the  boys  break  camp 
before  the  Indian  scare  had  fully  subsided. 

Hardly  had  he  broken  off  his  train  of  thought 
when  two  cowboys,  who  had  not  yet  joined  the 
main  crowd,  came  dashing  into  camp,  their  mus- 
tangs foam-flecked,  themselves  hatless  and  their 
hair  flying  wildly  in  the  wind.  Every  man  was 
on  his  feet  in  a  second,  his  fire-arms  at  his  side. 
The  story  told  by  the  newcomers  was  of  a  close 
chase  given  them  by  some  bloodthirsty  Coman- 
ches  who  were  at  that  time  indulging  in  one  of 
their  feverish  uprisals.  The  report  of  the  two 


228  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

cowboys  also  showed  that  the  Indians  chasing 
them  were  only  a  small  portion  of  a  main  body 
of  warriors  who  were  traveling  eastward  toward 
the  settlements.  4  '  Miss  Sallie, ' '  the  cook,  served 
the  men  a  hurried  supper.  Half  an  hour  later, 
each  with  a  camp  kit  and  provisions  buckled  on 
his  bronchos,  they  rode  swiftly  in  the  direction 
where  the  two  cowboys  had  last  seen  the  moving 
throng  of  Indian  warriors,  and  from  there  they 
took  a  circuitous  course  to  reach  the  settlements, 
seeking  to  head  off  the  Indians. 

The  title  of  cowboy  should  not  be  applied  to 
all  men  who  have  taken  an  active  part  in  hand- 
ling cattle,  but  to  those  only  who  have  proven 
themselves  worthy  of  the  name  of  such  as  rode 
the  range  of  long  ago.  That  much-abused  term, 
4 'Texas  cowboy, "  is  often  used  by  Eastern  peo- 
ple who  in  all  truth  have  known  little  of  the 
real  goodness  of  heart,  simplicity,  and  brave 
courage  of  those  roistering,  jolly  cowboys  of 
long  ago.  Not  faultless — no — for  they  were  hu- 
man and  full  of  the  great  big  heart  that  throbs 
in  the  breast  of  every  big-souled  man  and 
woman.  I  don't  claim  for  them  anything  but 
what  is  rightfully  theirs;  and  in  view  of  their 
peculiar  surroundings,  temptations,  associa- 
tions, and  privations  they  were  exceptional 
characters — those  cowboys  of  the  free  range 
days  on  the  plains  of  southwest  Texas.  They 
possessed  qualities  both  useful  and  ornamental 
in  any  station  of  life.  Don't  understand  by  this 
that  I  mean  the  entire  fraternity,  for  "black 


LA   BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  229 

sheep ' '  had  crept  into  the  fold  from  the t  i  neutral 
ground"  beyond  the  Sahine — that  mother 
ground  of  the  thieves  and  cut-throats  who 
raided  the  colonists  and  forced  Stephen  F.  Aus- 
tin to  establish  the  first  lynch  law,  when  he  com- 
manded his  colonists  to  seek  and  find  their  prop- 
erty, which  they  should  bring  back,  but  to  leave 
the  thief  by  the  roadside.  To  me  the  Texas  cow- 
boy is  as  I  saw  and  knew  him  in  the  long  ago. 
He  is  a  true,  big-hearted,  whole-souled  bundle  of 
humanity,  kind-hearted,  generous  to  a  fault,  and 
with  the  qualities  of  the  gentleman  born  in  him. 
Perhaps  a  little  lax  at  times  about  his  mode  of 
applying  his  branding  iron,  but  it  was  one  of  the 
invariable  laws  of  that  day  and  time  to  "get 
even ; ' '  and  with  but  very  few  exceptions  he  was 
a  neighbor  of  whom  to  be  proud.  You  knew 
when  you  entered  his  home  you  were  welcome; 
he  had  nothing  too  good  to  divide.  You  could 
sense  an  air  of  freedom  pervading  his  home  that 
inaudibly  but  positively  breathed  you  a  hearty 
welcome.  No  need  to  expect  him  to  neglect  any 
of  his  duties  to  entertain  you,  for  he  would  not ; 
but  you  had  the  freedom  of  the  place,  be  it  large 
or  small.  A  twenty-mile  ride  on  a  rainy  night 
to  bring  a  doctor  for  a  sick  friend  or  neighbor, 
or  to  go  to  the  relief  of  a  distressed  human  being, 
worked  no  hardship  on  him.  All  he  needed  to 
know  was  that  there  was  suffering  that  needed 
his  help.  If  a  friend  or  associate  was  ever  so 
far  "misunderstood"  as  to  get  arrested,  he  went 
to  his  rescue  and,  as  a  rule,  was  able  to  secure 


230  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTON E 

for  him  a  verdict  of  "not  guilty. "  If  some  un- 
fortunate came  to  him  who  was  in  danger  of  be- 
ing "pulled,"  he  would  rustle  up  the  best  stray 
horse  to  be  found  on  the  range,  borrow  a  saddle 
from  some  sheep  man — provided  the  owner  was 
away — and  filling  him  up  with  the  best  proven- 
der he  could  find,  give  him  some  of  his  spare 
cash  and  a  little  "  meetin '-house  "  advice  and  tell 
him  to  mount,  lean  to  and  shove. 

There  was  another — the  roaming  "come  day, 
go  day,  God  send  Sunday, ' '  good-natured,  easy- 
going cowboy,  who  was  happy  wherever  he  was ; 
who  cared  for  nothing  but  a  good  saddle,  spurs, 
and  quirt,  and  a  forty-dollar  job;  seldom  aspir- 
ing to  accumulate  anything  for  himself,  content 
to  spend  his  life  working  for  some  one  else,  and 
when  the  season  for  working  cattle  on  the  range 
was  over,  he  would  repair  to  the  nearest  town 
and  spend  all  he  had  earned  in  having  a  good 
time.  Men  of  this  latter  class  were  ofttimes  ma- 
nipulated in  many  ways  by  the  more  astute 
cattlemen  in  whose  employ  they  might  chance 
to  be,  for,  as  a  rule,  they  would  do  for  him  what 
they  would  fear  to  do  for  themselves,  and  too 
often  has  it  been  the  case,  when  the  '  '  boss ' '  was 
in  too  close  a  place,  he  would,  in  order  to  save 
himself,  slip  the  head  of  some  pliable  dupe  into 
the  halter  that  justice  had  designed  for  his  own, 
and  never  feel  a  qualm  of  conscience,  as  he  lived 
in  the  daily  conviction  that  all  he  did  was  on  the 
dead  square. 

It  was  such  fellows  as  these  that  followed 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  231 

Buck  Jennings,  Shacklef ord  's  foreman,  as  they 
rode  to  the  relief  of  the  settlements. 

Just  the  day  before  the  scenes  just  described 
at  the  foreman's  cabin  on  Trail  Creek  took  place, 
a  dust-covered,  gaunt,  half-starved  Comanche 
Indian  came  to  Fort  Stockton  with  the  news 
that  the  settlements  were  to  be  destroyed  by  the 
Indians  who  were  on  the  warpath  again.  It 
was  Lieutenant  Fairfax  who  met  him  and  first 
interviewed  him.  He  knew  the  Indian,  and  had 
often  seen  him  at  one  of  the  settlement  stores, 
and  knew  he  was  Little  Fox,  a  Comanche  brave, 
and  as  the  lieutenant  could  speak  the  Comanche 
language  easily  the  Indian  was  given  over  into 
his  charge.  Before  the  redskin  would  tell  his 
errand,  he  drew  from  the  ranger  a  solemn  prom- 
ise that  he  would  protect  him  from  the  ven- 
geance of  his  tribe.  The  lieutenant  proceeded 
to  assure  him  that  he  would  be  protected  from 
his  fellow-tribesmen,  and  once  the  Indian  began 
talking  he  told  quickly  the  one  thing  that  had 
brought  him,  without  sleep  or  drink,  to  the 
ranger's  camp. 

' '  Chief  tell  warriors  Great  Spirit  call  red  men. 
Hear!  'Dig  up  hatchet  and  kill  all  palefaces.' 
Great  Spirit  say:  'Kill  palefaces;  burn  ranch 
houses.'  Red  man  come  back  from  happy  hunt- 
ing ground  and  bring  buffalo;  all  belong  to  red 
man.  So  say  chief  to  his  braves.  Little  Fox 
steal  'way  and  come  to  tell ;  go  save  white  squaw 
and  papooses!" 

The  lieutenant  listened  to  him  quietly  until  he 


232  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

had  told  his  story;  then  asked,  "When  is  this  to 
take  place  I"  "  The  time  is  here, "  he  said.  "To- 
night give  signal ;  braves  burn  and  kill. "  "  And 
the  signal ! ' '  asked  Fairfax.  i  '  Three  heap  fires 
on  Eagle  Butte  when  night  half  dead,"  the  In- 
dian replied. 

The  lieutenant  immediately  dispatched  a 
courier  to  the  United  States  troops,  and  was 
soon  leading  his  company  of  rangers  toward  the 
settlements  beyond  the  Pecos.  The  company 
was  well  mounted,  and  every  man  of  them  a  hard 
rider,  but  morning  found  them,  after  a  long 
night's  ride,  with  no  Indians  in  sight.  They 
struck  camp  on  the  banks  of  a  creek  to  break- 
fast and  for  a  short  hour's  rest  for  their  horses, 
which  were  considerably  fagged.  They  were  far 
to  the  north  of  Trail  Creek,  where  Shackleford's 
foreman  held  his  camp,  and  the  Indians  had 
passed  south  of  Trail  Creek,  making  for  the 
lower  settlements.  It  was  thus  that  Lieutenant 
Fairfax  failed  to  get  in  the  wake  of  the  moving 
army  of  redskins  again  that  day.  It  was  with 
deep  chagrin  that  the  ranger  lieutenant  realized 
at  nightfall  that  a  whole  day  and  night  had 
passed  without  any  effectual  move,  having  been 
made  by  him  and  his  men  to  intercept  the  In- 
dians. He  thought  of  his  mother  and  the  loved 
ones  at  home,  and  his  face  paled,  his  lips  tight- 
ened, and  digging  his  spurs  deep  into  his  horse's 
side  he  rode  before  his  men  like  a  sweeping  wind, 
leading  them  at  a  mad  pace,  with  no  thought  of 


LA   BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  233 

the  dripping  horses  lathered  with  sweat,  yet 
tireless  under  the  saddle. 

As  they  began  to  near  the  settlements  they 
found  along  the  way  smoking  piles  of  burning 
debris  marking  the  destruction  of  a  lone  ranch- 
man 's  hut  or  cabin,  but  no  trace  or  sign  of  muti- 
lated bodies  met  the  searching  eyes  of  the  rang- 
ers at  any  of  the  demolished  homes.  "They 
have  captured  them  and  are  driving  their  pris- 
oners before  them  for  breastworks, "  was  Fair- 
fax 's  decision  which  he  communicated  to  his 
men,  who  mounted  their  horses  and  followed  him 
as  he  rode  faster  and  faster  with  each  successive 
mile. 

Buck  Jennings  and  his  band  of  cowboys  had 
ridden  just  a  few  hours  ahead  of  Fairfax  and  his 
company  of  rangers,  gathering  the  settlers  as 
they  went,  riding  double,  and  carrying  bare- 
headed children  in  their  arms  whom  they  had 
snatched  from  the  ground  as  they  were  at  play, 
as  they  rode  their  mad  chase  with  death.  About 
midnight  Lieutenant  Fairfax  and  his  men  ar- 
rived at  the  main  Shackleford  ranch,  and  their 
hearts  were  filled  with  gladness  when  they  found 
it  swarming  with  the  settlers  who  had  been 
brought  to  the  safety  of  the  heavy  stockade  sur- 
rounding the  Shackleford  home. 

* '  Sure,  me  lad,  and  is  it  yerself  that  is  safe  in 
the  arms  of  yer  mither?"  cried  the  lieutenant's 
mother  as  she  flung  her  arms  about  his  neck; 
and  the  color  came  back  into  her  fear-blanched 
face. 


i';M  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

1  i  Yes,  mother,  and  right  glad  I  am  to  find  the 
settlers  safe  behind  the  stockades.  I  have  been 
so  troubled  about  the  women  and  the  children 
and  your  own  dear  self.  How  fares  it  with  all  of 
you  here  at  home  ? ' '  His  arm  encircled  her  waist 
as  they  walked  away  from  the  throng  of  fright- 
ened men,  women  and  children. 

''Sure,  and  its  all  day  they  have  been  coming 
in  like  this,  me  lad,  and  niver  a  place  to  give  the 
poor  souls  to  lay  their  heads,  so  full  has  the 
house  been,  and  then  we  thought  to  make  pallets 
for  the  bairns  out  here  on  the  grass;  but  niver 
a  bloody  redskin  has  come  in  sight  yit." 

He  tightened  his  arm  about  her  waist  as  he 
said,  "I  thank  God  that  you  are  safe,  mother; 
and  grandfather,  how  is  he!" 

"Sure,  me  lad,  and  he  is  all  right,  and  ye 
jist  come  this  way  an'  see  fur  yez  own  self." 
And  she  led  the  way  to  where  "Daddy"  Shac- 
kleford  was  quietly  resting,  fearing  no  danger 
now  that  Buck  and  the  boys  were. holding  the 
stockade. 

In  glad,  welcoming  tones  he  cried  out,  as 
Allan  and  his  mother  approached  him: 

"A  double  welcome,  my  lad;  now  I  can  rest 
my  old  bones  and  sleep  that  I  know  you  are  to 
lead  the  men.  Buck  and  you  can  whip  your 
weight  in  wild  cats.  Line  up  the  boys,  every 
man  uv  'em,  and  if  the  red  devils  storm  the 

stockade  give  'em  h .  Aye,  Malindy,  it 's  the 

blood  uv  his  father  in  'im — a  man  who  lived  on 
the  dead  square  and  died  game  at  the  last,  one 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONK  235 

of  the  brave  heroes  of  the  Alamo,  and  a  Virginia 
gentleman.  Always  remember  that,  my  boy!" 

A  kind,  indulgent  smile  played  over  the  lieu- 
tenant 's  face  as  he  listened  to  the  old  man's 
words,  and  grasping  his  hand  with  a  strong  grip, 
he  replied:  "I  thank  you  sincerely;  and  now  1 
must  go  and  look  after  the  barricades  and  see 
that  all  is  made  ready;  but  I  can't  understand 
how  our  company  could  have  missed  the  red- 
skins, for  we  were  right  on  their  trail  the  last 
few  miles.  Probably  they  have  hid  themselves 
until  we  are  off  guard,  and  then  aim  to  make  a 
midnight  rush  on  the  barricades. '  * 

"Keep  out  the  pickets,  lad;  don't  let  them 
take  you  by  surprise ;  and  if  they  come,  give  'em 
h_  _j»  At  the  last  words  "Daddy"  lay  back 
on  his  pillow,  resting  from  the  fatigue  and  ex- 
citement of  the  day  that  had  just  waned. 

The  ranch,  with  its  people  back  of  the  stock- 
ade, rested  until  morning  under  double  guard, 
with  no  interruption  from  the  enemy.  At  the 
first  break  of  day,  Lieutenant  Fairfax  led  a 
reconnoitering  party  across  the  plains,  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  distant  timber,  along  the  range 
of  low  sand  dunes,  outlined  against  the  horizon 
to  the  west.  Striking  no  trail  of  the  Indians 
after  a  couple  of  hours '  hard  riding,  the  rangers 
returned  to  the  ranch,  bringing  with  them  a 
bunch  of  fat  beef  cattle,  which  were  driven  in- 
side of  the  stockade  to  be  slaughtered  as  they 
were  needed.  About  one  hundred  and  fifty  fami- 
lies were  congregated  at  the  ranch,  and  with  but 


236  LA   BELLE    SAN   ANTONE 

few  exceptions  they  had  all  been  made  homeless 
by  the  destructive  horde  of  Indians  sweeping 
over  the  country.  Fairfax  and  his  uncle,  young 
Ben  Shacklef  ord,  directed  the  men  in  butchering 
and  barbecuing  three  of  the  fattest  beeves.  The 
children  were  crying  with  hunger,  and  their 
mothers  were  looking  worn  and  famished  from 
the  trying  day  and  night  of  dread  they  had 
passed  through.  Mrs.  Fairfax  kept  the  big  iron 
ovens  over  a  bed  of  bright  coals,  and  with  the 
help  of  a  number  of  the  women  she  baked  bread 
for  the  crowd.  There  were  milk,  butter  and 
eggs,  but  the  men  left  them  for  the  women  and 
children,  confining  themselves  to  the  barbecued 
meats,  black  coffee  and  unleavened  bread. 

The  first  signal  of  danger  came  just  at  the 
close  of  the  mid-day  meal,  by  the  firing  of  the 
pickets '  guns  outside  the  stockade.  The  guards 
came  dashing  into  the  stockade,  and  quickly  the 
portal  was  closed  by  the  placing  of  the  heavy 
barricade.  The  women  and  children  were  rushed 
into  the  house  for  protection  from  the  flying 
arrows,  and  then  the  men  took  to  the  portholes 
in  the  stockades. 

As  Lieutenant  Fairfax  swept  the  wide  plain  in 
every  direction  with  a  long,  searching  gaze,  he 
thanked  his  grandfather  with  inward  devout- 
ness  for  his  astuteness  in  establishing  his  ranch 
in  the  center  of  the  vast,  wide  plain,  making  it 
almost  impossible  for  an  enemy  to  approach 
without  discovery.  To  the  right  of  the  north 
stockade  could  be  seen  a  large  army  of  mounted 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  237 

Indians,  bearing  swiftly  down  upon  the  build- 
ings and  stockades.  Fairfax  waited  until  they 
were  in  close  range  and  then  gave  the  order  to 
fire.  Simultaneously  with  the  order  he  had 
given  came  the  report  of  the  guns  at  the  port- 
holes, the  foremost  Indians  leading  the  advance 
attack  reeling  from  their  saddles.  Those  fol- 
lowing met  with  the  same  rebuff;  then  came  a 
lull  in  the  attack,  during  which  the  rangers  sad- 
dled their  horses  and  made  ready  for  a  general 
onslaught.  Buck  Jennings  and  his  intrepid 
cowboys  followed  in  the  movements  of  the  rang- 
ers; then  all  waited  for  the  next  attack.  From 
his  point  of  observation  at  the  top  of  the  stock- 
ade Lieutenant  Fairfax  saw  a  dim  line  moving 
toward  the  ranch  from  the  direction  of  the  dis- 
tant sand  dunes  to  the  west.  He  left  his  pilot- 
house and  went  back  to  his  men,  directing  them 
for  the  oncoming  attack,  and  then  stationed 
himself  at  his  porthole  in  the  stockade.  Afar  in 
the  distance  could  be  heard  the  bloodcurding 
"hi — yip — yei!"  of  the  cut-throats,  followed  by 
the  shrill  Comanche  war  cry  at  every  jump  of 
their  horses.  The  band  was  four  hundred  strong, 
composed  of  Comanches,  Kiowas,  and  Arapa- 
hoes.  The  attack  was  stubborn,  and  lasted  for 
over  an  hour,  but  at  last,  the  fire  from  behind  the 
stockade  getting  too  hot  for  them,  they  left  their 
dead  and  wounded  and  broke  for  the  shelter  of 
the  sand  hills.  Tearing  away  the  barricade  of 
the  portal  the  mounted  men  rode  through  and 
followed  in  hot  pursuit.  The  barricade  was  re- 


238  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

placed  by  the  few  men  who  were  left  to  watch 
guard  at  the  stockade,  while  the  main  body  rode 
on  in  close  chase  of  the  fleeing  Indians.  It  was 
a  running  fight  for  several  miles,  the  Indians  in 
the  lead  and  drifting  southward.  As  night  came 
on  the  rangers  pressed  their  chase  harder,  their 
horses  now  and  then  leaping  over  or  shying  at 
the  body  of  a  fallen  Indian,  whose  escape  had 
been  checked  by  the  bullets  from  their  guns. 
Across  the  dry,  alkali  desert,  in  the  glimmering 
moonlight,  rode  the  two  bodies  of  men  like  mad 
demons  chasing  each  other.  Fairfax  realized 
that  the  leaders  were  endeavoring  to  get  their 
army  into  the  timber  of  the  valley  below,  and  to 
weaken  their  force  he  gave  orders  to  his  men  to 
cut  the  number  down  as  small  as  possible  before 
they  reached  the  timber. 

By  the  light  of  the  full  moon  it  was  easy  for 
the  practised  eye  of  each  man  in  the  chase  to  dis- 
tinguish the  fleeing  foe,  and  each  time  they  came 
in  close  range  a  volley  was  poured  into  the  red- 
skins, who  were  left  where  they  fell,  grappling 
in  the  white,  alkali  scurf  covering  the  scarred 
face  of  the  desert.  As  morning  was  breaking 
the  Indians  made  a  desperate  dash  for  the  tim- 
ber, which  they  were  now  nearing,  and  once 
under  cover  they  turned  upon  their  pursuers  and 
gave  fight.  The  rangers  charged  into  the  woods 
after  them  and  a  hard  battle  ensued,  one  of  the 
rangers  being  killed  and  a  couple  of  them 
wounded.  Two  of  Buck  Jennings'  boys  were 
wounded,  and  several  of  the  Indians  killed,  and 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  239 

those  left  fled  from  the  scene  of  the  conflict  and 
scattered  through  the  woods. 

Couriers  had  been  sent  to  warn  the  settlers  in 
the  valley,  and  many  of  them  had  been  con- 
ducted to  Hackett 's  ranch.  All  day  men  and 
women  on  horseback  and  carrying  their  children 
in  their  arms  rode  after  the  scouts,  who  were 
ordered  by  Hackett  to  bring  them  to  his  ranch. 
News  of  the  Indian  uprisal  had  spread  through- 
out the  valley,  carrying  dismay  and  fear  to  the 
hearts  of  the  people  in  the  settlements,  and  leav- 
ing home  and  everything,  they  fled  to  the  near- 
est place  of  safety.  Hackett 9s  grounds  and 
home  were  overrun  with  them,  but  to  each  fresh 
arrival  a  cordial  welcome  was  given  them  to 
abide  there  until  the  danger  was  over.  The 
rangers  struck  camp  on  a  green  flat  at  the  edge 
of  the  timber,  to  make  sure  none  of  the  Indians 
could  crawl  through  the  tall  grass  and  steal 
upon  them  unawares. 

With  Jennings'  band  added  to  the  rangers, 
the  squad  numbered  one  hundred  and  fifty  men, 
and  the  cowboys  employed  at  the  Montezuma 
ranch  swelled  the  number  to  two  hundred.  The 
night  passed  by  without  any  sign  of  the  Indians. 
The  guards  had  been  placed  less  than  ten  feet 
apart,  making  it  impossible  for  an  Indian  to  pass 
the  lines;  and  as  morning  dawned  new  courage 
came  to  the  people  huddled  together  for  self- 
protection.  The  awfulness  that  goes  with  any 


240  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

night  peril  left  them  as  the  warm  September 
sunshine  spread  its  benediction  over  them,  while 
they  watched  and  waited  for  their  danger  to 
pass  away. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

4 

The  days  were  warm  and  delightful — not  too 
warm — and  a  blue  haze  hung  over  everything. 
An  Indian  spy  who  had  been  captured  by  Fair- 
fax's squadron  was  brought  into  camp,  and 
under  the  fear  of  immediate  death  was  made  to 
reveal  the  movements  of  the  warlike  tribes.  He 
was  of  theArapahoe  tribe,  the  hereditary  allies  of 
the  Cheyennes,  and  who  at  that  time  were  amal- 
gamating with  the  Comanches.  Under  the  rigid 
discipline  given  him  the  Indian  revealed  the  fact 
that  only  half  of  the  warriors  were  in  the  body 
making  the  attack  on  the  settlements.  The 
Cheyennes  were  gathering  en  masse  to  join  the 
disorganized  band  that  had  been  driven  before 
the  hot  firing  of  Fairfax's  squadron.  The 
weather  was  glorious,  not  a  cloud  to  be  seen  any- 
where, only  a  blue  haze  hanging  like  floating, 
vapory  robes  over  everything.  Eeconnoitering 
parties  went  out  in  search  of  the  enemy,  but  no 
trace  of  Indians  could  be  found.  Only  the  hardy 
plainsmen,  who  so  well  understood  the  wily  na- 
ture of  the  Indians,  could  detect  any  sinister 
meaning  in  their  ominous  silence,  and  Fairfax's 
soul  was  burdened  with  dread  for  the  safety  of 
the  North  Settlements. 

While  they  were  still  inactive,  waiting  the  ap- 
proach of  the  enemy,  a  squad  of  United  States 


1142  LA    BELLE    SAX    AXTONE 

troops  joined  them,  leaving  the  larger  number 
of  the  company  to  guard  the  upper  settlements. 
The  lieutenant  breathed  with  deep  relief  as  he 
realized  that  his  loved  ones  would  be  doubly  pro- 
tected. 

Hackett  had  joined  in  the  eager  search  for  the 
ambushed  Indians,  hoping  to  be  able  to  treat 
with  them,  as  had  been  his  custom  in  the  past. 
The  scouting  parties  that  had  gone  out  had  dis- 
covered many  of  the  settlers'  homes  laid  waste 
by  the  fire-brand,  at  the  hand  of  the  skulking 
Indians.  This  fact  had  destroyed  in  Hackett 's 
mind  all  thought  of  forbearance.  He  had  put  the 
captured  spy  under  a  rigid  course  of  cross-ex- 
amination, seeking  to  learn  why  the  Oomanches 
were  breaking  their  compact  with  him  of  con- 
tinued peace.  After  a  long,  rigorous  examina- 
tion the  Indian  said:  "Big  Sachem  no  longer 
love  red  brother.  Let  white  brother  kill  buffalo ; 
braves  no  like  it;  squaws,  papooses  have  no 
meat.  Great  Spirit  say,  'Kill  pale-face;  burn 
ranch  houses. '  Eed  man  come  back ;  bring  buf- 
falo— heap  many,  more'n  is  now."  With  the 
stolid  look  of  his  race  the  Indian  gazed  steadily 
before  him  when  he  ceased  speaking,  and  not 
another  word  could  be  drawn  from  him. 

Hackett  realized  he  was  face  to  face  with  the 
meanest  element  of  the  Indian  nature.  Their 
jealousy  had  been  roused  by  his  friendship  with 
the  white  settler s,  who  had  been  killing  their 
buffalo,  antelope;  and  deer.  He  realized  also 
that  he  had  come  to  the  parting  of  the  ways.  No 


LA    BELLE    SAN    AXTONE  243 

longer  could  he  handle  the  red  man  with  gloves 
as  he  had  done  in  the  past,  and,  despite  their 
savagery,  he  felt  within  his  soul  that  their  rights 
were  being  encroached  upon  in  the  willful 
slaughter  of  their  game.  Nevertheless,  he  deter- 
mined that  rather  than  be  exterminated  by 
them,  they  should  themselves  be  exterminated. 
During  the  encampment  of  the  rangers  at  the 
Montezuma  ranch,  Lieutenant  Fairfax  saw  a 
great  deal  of  his  little  friend  who  had  cooked 
the  mid-day  meal  for  him  up  there  on  the  desert. 
She  had  the  freedom  of  the  place,  and  wandered 
where  her  fancy  might  list,  so  long  as  she  kept 
out  of  the  range  of  danger.  A  shy  timidity  had 
crept  into  her  manner  with  Lieutenant  Fairfax. 
She  had  spied  him  among  his  troops  at  his  first 
appearance  at  the  ranch.  She  had  approached 
him  with  an  honorable  salute,  and  taking  him  by 
the  hand  had  led  him  to  her  father,  and  in  her 
own  peculiar  way  explained  to  him  that  Fairfax 
was  the  ranger  lieutenant  she  had  told  him  about 
meeting  and  cooking  dinner  for  in  the  desert. 
Hackett  grasped  his  hand  in  cordial  greeting, 
Fairfax  feeling  instinctively  that  he  could  like 
the  man,  while  he  looked  into  his  face  and  lis- 
tened to  his  deep,  kind  voice  as  he  said:  "I 
have  known  you  a  long  time,  lad ;  saw  you  when 
you  were  first  in  your  cradle,  at  your  father's 
home  in  San  Antonio.  After  the  battle  of  San 
Jacinto  I  helped  to  bring  you  and  your  mother 
to  your  grandfather's  home.  You  were  a  boy  of 
twelve  when  I  saw  you  next;  Ben  was  starting 


244  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

with  you  for  the  East,  to  place  you  in  school  at 
Wheeling.  That  was  the  last  time  I  saw  you; 
but  I  see  why  they  have  called  you  i  Young 
Allan/  for  you  are  the  image  of  your  father, 
man!"  He  slapped  the  shoulder  of  the  lieuten- 
ant with  his  broad,  open  palm,  a  glad  smile 
beaming  over  his  big,  good-natured  face.  With 
a  more  serious  air  he  continued :  ' '  They  tell  me 
Ben  is  getting  feeble;  I  hope  it  is  not  true.  He 
must  hold  out  as  long  as  I  do,  for  we  are  the  two 
oldest  landmarks  of  earlier  days  in,  around  and 
about  San  Antonio. ' ' 

The  lieutenant  assured  him  that  his  grand- 
father was  exceptionally  well  for  his  advanced 
age,  and  still  proud  of  the  fact  that  his  son-in- 
law  was  a  Virginia  gentleman.  The  same  broad 
smile  spread  over  the  ranchman's  face  as  the 
lieutenant  brought  back  to  his  mind  his  old 
friend's  peculiar  vanity. 

The  lieutenant  found  the  road  to  the  "big 
house"  across  the  way  from  his  camp  quite 
often,  ostensibly  to  confer  with  its  owner  about 
the  chief  attraction  filling  all  their  minds,  but  in 
reality  in  the  hope  of  seeing  the  little  elfin-like 
creature  who  had  stolen  his  heart  away.  Just 
as  often  would  Chiketa  manufacture  some  ex- 
cuse to  visit  the  camp.  Hackett  at  last  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  into  communication  with  the 
leading  Comanche  chief.  The  pow-wow  was  in- 
effectual; the  cut-throats  would  agree  to  no 
measures,  but  wanted  the  whites  to  leave  the  set- 
tlements. The  red  monarch  withdrew  with  his 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  245 

warriors,  all  wearing  gorgeous  war  bonnets  and 
carrying  their  brilliant  battle  pennants.  The 
afternoon  of  the  same  day  saw  a  heavy  stockade 
enclosing  the  buildings  of  Hackett's  ranch, 
while  the  United  States  troops  and  the  rangers 
went  out  in  a  body  to  meet  the  Indians,  attack 
them  and  scatter  them  before  nightfall.  As  the 
troops  rode  over  the  crest  of  a  swell  of  the 
prairie  they  saw  coming  toward  them  a  large 
body  of  Indians,  all  mounted,  and  giving  the 
shrill  Cheyenne  war-cry  with  every  jump  of 
their  horses.  Out  from  the  moving  body  of 
troopers  rode  one,  his  bugle  went  to  his  lips,  and 
the  next  instant  the  thrilling  notes  of  the 
"  charge  "  were  ringing  far  and  near.  The  two 
bodies  met  in  desperate  conflict,  the  Indians 
stubbornly  resisting,  and  the  troops,  despite  the 
poisoned  arrows  flying  thickly  about  them, 
charging  through  the  line  and  breaking  the 
flanks  of  the  redskins,  who  were  some  nine  hun- 
dred strong.  At  close  quarters  the  club  and  the 
tomahawk  supplanted  the  bow  and  arrows  with 
the  Indians,  while  the  short  saber  and  bayonet 
of  the  troops  did  the  work  of  their  carbines  at 
long  range.  The  stubbornness  of  the  Indians 
began  to  weaken  under  the  steady  downpour  of 
death  dealt  out  to  them  from  the  hands  of  the 
disciplined  troops.  Those  who  were  not  killed 
were  captured,  with  some  loss  to  the  soldiers. 
Many  of  their  horses  received  poisoned  arrows 
in  their  bodies  and  had  to  be  killed  to  prevent  a 
slow,  lingering  death.  Gray  Eagle,  the  Co- 


24G  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

manclie  cliief  who  had  refused  to  treat  for  peace 
with  Hackett  and  the  settlers,  was  quite  a  differ- 
ent personage  when  he  found  himself  dismantled 
of  his  rohes  and  war  paint,  his  warriors-bold 
slain  and  trampled. 

"Me  make  peace;  me  make  peace!1-  he  kept 
reiterating,  as  he  moved  in  front  of  the  soldiers 
toward  the  ranch,  the  point  of  Fairfax's  bayonet 
touching  him  in  the  back.  "Me  talk  Big 
Sachem!"  requested  the  warrior  as  he  reached 
the  ranch,  his  eyes  searching  eagerly  for  the 
form  of  Hackett. 

All  night  the  captured  Indians  were  held 
under  heavy  guard ;  the  following  morning  Gray 
Eagle  signed  a  treaty  of  perpetual  peace,  and, 
with  his  captured  warriors,  he  was  conducted 
under  guard  of  the  United  States  troops  beyond 
the  confines  of  the  white  settlements  and  set 
free,  ending  for  the  time  the  war  of  the  Co- 
manches,  Arapahoes  and  Cheyennes  on  the  set- 
tlements. Little  Pox  was  nauseated,  and  spat 
on  the  ground  to  show  his  disgust  when  he  heard 
of  the  peace  treaty.  "White  man  heap  damn 
fool.  Indian  make  lots  peace  promise ;  break  'em 
all.  Damn  fool,  white  man;  never  learn.  Be- 
lieve 'gain.  Oh  much  damn  fool." 

Lieutenant  Fairfax  had  delivered  the  Indian 
prisoners  over  to  the  United  States  troops  to  be 
disposed  of,  and  with  his  troopers  he  searched 
the  country  around  Hackett 's  ranch  for  any 
lurking  redskins  that  might  have  escaped  and 
might  return  to  molest  the  people  there.  Once 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  247 

convinced  the  danger  had  passed  over,  the  peo- 
ple returned  to  their  homes  where  they  had  not 
been  destroyed,  find  where  they  had  been  pil- 
laged and  burned  by  the  Indians,  the  more  for- 
tunate lent  a  helping  hand  in  rearing  new  cabins 
for  the  unfortunates.  When  the  day  came  for 
the  rangers  to  take  leave  and  break  camp  Hack- 
ett  rode  with  them  for  the  first  few  miles.  He 
thanked  the  lieutenant  for  his  great  courage  in 
protecting  his  home  and  his  family,  and  urged 
him  to  come  back  and  visit  him. 

"I  would  like  to  come  back,  Mr.  Hackett," 
said  the  young  Texan,  in  a  straightforward, 
manly  way.  * '  I  would  like  to  come  back  and  visit 
with  you  in  your  home  and  woo  and  win  your 
daughter  for  my  wife,  for  I  have  loved  her  with 
all  my  soul  since  that  first  day  I  met  her  under 
the  burning  sun  up  there  on  the  desert." 

"Oh — ah — well,  you  see — the  fact  is,  lad,  she 
—well,  there  are  two  of  you,  and  whichever  wins 
her — why,  I've  naught  to  say." 

1  i  I  understand, ' '  said  Fairfax ; ' l  you  mean  the 
Mexican  in  San  Antonio — Xamino,  whose  father 
was  a  close  friend  of  my  father." 

"The  same,  lad,  the  same.  Did  Chiketa  tell 
you  about  him?"  questioned  Hackett,  com- 
pletely nonplussed  by  the  turn  affairs  were 
inking. 

"No!  Every  one  knows  it,  and  knows  also 
how  hard  he  strives  to  spend  as  much  of  his  time 
at  your  ranch  as  possible,  that  he  may  be  near 
her.  However.  I  do  not  believe  your  daughter 


248  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

loves  him  except  as  a  good  comrade,  and  I  will 
eagerly  enter  the  suit  for  her  hand  if  J  may  se- 
cure your  permission. " 

"Go  right  ahead,  my  lad.  I  couldn't  refuse 
you  if  Chiketa  wants  you  to  come. ' ' 

"She  knows  that  I  intended  to  ask  your  per- 
mission to  come  back  and  see  her,  and  she  has 
told  me  in  word  and  manner,  Mr.  Hackett,  that 
I  shall  be  welcome  when  I  come." 

The  anxious  manner  and  the  persuasive  words 
of  the  handsome  lieutenant  remained  with 
Hackett  as  he  rode  back  toward  his  home,  and 
he  found  himself  wishing  that  it  might  be  true, 
and  that  his  daughter  could  love  Fairfax  best. 
'  i  For,  somehow  I  am  afraid  Antone  has  a  violent 
temper  when  roused,"  the  anxious  father  told 
himself.  For  several  days  after  the  departure 
of  the  ranging  company  Chiketa  was  very  quiet, 
having  but  little  to  say  to  any  one.  Hackett  had 
spoken  to  his  wife,  repeating  to  her  his  interview 
with  Fairfax,  and  together  they  kept  watch  over 
the  girl,  who  seemed  so  different  in  her  manner. 
It  was  so  unlike  her  to  sit  quietly  watching  the 
far-off  sky  line,  her  chin  buried  in  her  hands,  her 
elbows  resting  on  her  knees. 

' '  The  fever  has  got  her — I  am  sure  of  it,  wife 
—and  we  may  as  well  make  the  best  of  it.  We 
will  have  to  give  her  up  to  the  one  she  loves,  and 
I  hope  it  will  be  Fairfax  that  wins  her,  for  I  am 
afraid  of  Antone 's  temper." 

"Oh,  padre,  Antone  is  a  good  boy;  it  is  only 
his  father's  warm  blood  in  his  veins  that  drives 


LA   BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  249 

him  to  do  such  odd  things.  Remember,  it  was 
his  father  who  helped  us  escape  from  Cortez  and 
that  dreaded  Quinta.  It  is  our  duty  to  help  An- 
tone  win  her,  for  his  father  befriended  us  in  the 
hour  of  peril."  By  the  mother's  words  it  was 
plain  to  be  seen  that  she  preferred  Antone 
should  win  her  daughter's  love. 

"Why  not  let  Chiketa  speak  for  herself? 
asked  the  father.    ' '  We  will  speak  to  her  of  the 
two  men  in  different  ways,  and  if  she  loves  either 
her  face  will  tell  her  story. ' ' 

He  walked  out  on  the  porch  to  where  the  girl 
sat  looking  with  non-seeing  eyes  into  far-distant 
space.  It  was  a  beautiful  September  day;  the 
temper  of  the  southern  sun,  and  the  sweetness 
of  its  tropic  perfumes  filled  the  air  and  lay  like 
a  golden  mantle  on  grass,  trees,  and  flowers.  As 
he  approached  her  where  she  sat,  deeply  buried 
in  moody,  abstract  thought,  he  said:  "Would 
you  like  to  go  back  to  the  convent  to  school, 
Chiketa?  You  are  getting  to  be  quite  a  young 
lady,  and  old  enough  to  learn  to  play  the  melo- 
deon.  Don't  you  think  Antone  would  be  glad  to 
see  you  come  back  to  San  Antonio  to  go  to 
school?" 

The  girl  sitting  on  the  door  step  gave  a  petu- 
lant movement  at  the  mention  of  Antone 's 
name.  "I  don't  want  to  go  to  school;  I  don't 
want  to  go  back  to  San  Antonio;  I  just  want  to 
be  all  by  myself  and  think  and  think,"  replied 
the  girl,  a  little  husky  note  in  her  voice. 

"Are  you  tired  of  Red  Calf,  and  of  your 


250  LA    BELLE    HAN    ANTONE 

mother,  and  me,  and  of  the  wild  flowers  you  have 
always  loved  so  well  ! ' '  her  father  continued. 

Until  now  her  shoulder  had  been  turned  to- 
ward him  as  though  she  would  like  to  ward  off 
intrusion,  but  at  his  last  words  she  threw  him  a 
quick,  darting  look  over  her  shoulder,  and  a 
smile  lit  up  the  big,  solemn  black  eyes. 

4 'Are  you  afraid  there  are  more  Indians  hid- 
ing in  the  hollows,  that  you  ride  your  pony  no 
more?  I  will  have  to  send  for  Lieutenant  Fair- 
fax to  bring  back  his  rangers  and  scour  the 
country  again,  to  convince  you  all  danger  is 


over. ' ; 


At  the  mention  of  Fairfax's  name  the  girl 
sprang  to  her  feet  as  an  antelope  springs  from 
covert,  and  dashing  to  her  father's  side  she 
threw  her  arms  about  his  neck,  covering  his  face 
with  kisses  first,  then  said:  "I  am  not  afraid 
of  the  Indians;  the  settlers  shouldn't  kill  and 
destroy  their  game;  let  them  kill  only  what  they 
need  for  meat.  They  are  killing  all  the  buffalo 
so  they  sell  the  hides,  and  leaving  the  carcasses 
to  rot  over  the  plains.  But,  padre,  when  do  you 
think  the  rangers  will  be  back!"  twining  her 
small  hand  in  his  long,  flowing  beard  as  she  put 
the  coaxing  question. 

" Oh,  I  can't  tell;  never  again  I  hope  on  the 
same  errand  they  came  last.  That  handsome 
lieutenant  told  me  he  was  coming  back  soon,  just 
to  pay  us  a  visit,  you  know. ' ' 

"Did  he,  padre!"  she  gasped,  as  she  tightened 
her  arms  about  his  neck  in  a  little  whirl  of  ecstat- 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  251 

ic  delight,  stamping  her  little  foot  to  give  em- 
phasis to  her  inward  delight. 

"Yes!"  replied  her  father,  the  man  within 
him  feeling  pleasant  over  the  suspense  he  was 
giving  her,  as  he  proceeded  to  fill  his  pipe,  feel- 
ing sure  that  those  kisses  she  had  given  him 
rightfully  belonged  to  the  lieutenant.  She  took 
the  pipe  quickly  from  his  hands,  filled  it  with 
rapidly  moving  fingers,  ran  for  a  live  coal  of  fire, 
lit  the  pipe,  and  gave  long,  vigorous  puffs  at  the 
pipe  stem  as  she  hurried  back  to  her  father  with 
it.  She  thrust  the  stem  into  her  father 's  mouth, 
saying:  "Be  quick,  padre;  draw  hard!" 

After  a  few  draws  at  the  pipe  Hackett  decided 
to  relieve  her,  and  removing  his  pipe  he  began 
talking  again  about  the  rangers  and  about  Lieu- 
tenant Fairfax.  Suddenly  she  threw  her  arms 
about  his  neck  again,  and  in  a  quick,  nervous 
way  she  declared,  "Oh,  padre,  you  are  the  best 
old  darling  that  ever  lived  in  this  world.  I  love 
you.  I  love  you, ' '  and  rained  her  kisses  down  on 
his  face. 

' '  Another  one  for  Fairfax, ' '  he  inwardly  told 
himself.  She  crawled  up  on  his  lap  and  crowded 
into  the  chair  beside  him.  '  '  Do  you  like  the  lieu- 
tenant, Chiketa  I ' '  questioned  her  father. 

' '  Oh,  padre,  he  is  so  strong  and  so  kind ;  and 
oh,  how  he  can  ride — just  like  the  rising  of  the 
wind  when  it  sweeps  over  the  tall  grasses  and 
makes  them  bend  low,  and  then  rushes  on  like 
mad,  swirling  the  dust  and  heaping  it  into  the 


252  LA    BELLE    SAN   ANTONE 

big  sand  dunes  on  the  plains. "  She  was  ner- 
vously gesturing  as  she  spoke. 

"Is  he  a  better  rider  than  Antone?"  The 
question  brought  forth  her  mirth,  for  she  re- 
called Antone's  first,  last,  and  only  effort  to 
"bust  the  broncho "  as  she  termed  the  feat. 
"Why  do  you  laugh  and  make  ridicule  of  An- 
tone  letting  the  broncho  outwind  him?  Don't 
you  like  Antone  ! ' ' 

"  Y-e-s, "  yawning,  and  then  again, "Antone  is 
a  good  roper,  but ' ' — another  yawn — i  i  oh,  padre, 
I  am  so  sleepy/'  and  her  head  drooped  until  it 
rested  against  him.  He  moved  his  seat  a  trifle 
to  make  her  more  comfortable,  and  half  lifting 
her  head  she  questioned,  sleepily,  "When  do  you 
think  Lieutenant  Fairfax  will  come,  padre!" 

' '  Oh,  he  '11  be  along  some  day  when  we  are  not 
expecting  him."  She  gave  a  little  happy 
chuckle  and  fell  asleep. 

"Her  story  is  told!"  said  Hackett  to  himself. 
The  senora  had  been  standing  near  them,  and 
coming  forward  with  a  light  footfall,  she  looked 
into  her  husband's  face,  now  beaming  with  a 
soft,  indulgent  smile,  his  eyes  full  of  love  for 
his  sweetheart,  wife,  and  the  mother  of  his  child. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

"Love  is  sunshine,  hate  is  shadow, 
Life  is  checkered  shade  and  sunshine. 
Rule  by  love,  oh  Hiawatha!" 

The  wind  blew  strong,  playing  low  among 
the  grasses  and  singing  a  shrill  morning  song. 
There  was  a  twang  of  wildness  in  the  breeze, 
and  a  sense  of  freedom,  wild  and  sweet,  coming 
from  over  the  wide,  grassy  plains.  Eiding 
swiftly  along  the  narrow  trail  leading  across 
country  in  a  southerly  direction,  we  again  see 
Lieutenant  Fairfax.  He  has  left  the  fort  far  be- 
hind him,  and  is  riding  swiftly  toward  the  south- 
ern settlements.  But  a  few  short  weeks  have 
elapsed  since  he  rode  this  way  at  another  time, 
but  he  is  riding  the  same  road  again  to-day,  and 
it  is  love  that  is  calling  him. 

With  a  leave  of  absence  from  his  company,  he 
is  returning  to  the  Montezuma  ranch  to  win  his 
bride.  Antone  Xamino  is  equally  as  anxious  to 
win  in  the  same  tilt  at  love,  and,  like  many  a  fond 
lover,  is  making  the  great  mistake  of  perpetually 
shadowing  his  lady-love,  of  following  continu- 
ally in  her  wake.  So  it  is  with  him  to-day,  in  his 
persistent  love-making,  as  he  follows  closely  at 
Chiketa's  side  to  different  points  of  interest 
about  the  ranch.  They  had  ridden  down  to  the 
old  mission  church,  ten  miles  away.  Together 


254  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

they  viewed  the  old  battle-scarred  ruins,  with 
nothing  left  now  but  the  walls  of  what  had  once 
been  a  fortress  for  the  good  friars,  seeking  to 
civilize  and  educate  the  Indians. 

When  they  had  finished  their  explorations, 
and  had  mounted  their  ponies  and  started  on 
their  return  home,  Antone  began  talking  to  the 
girl  of  his  great  love  for  her,  and  urging  her  to 
name  the  day  when  she  would  be  willing  to 
marry  him. 

"I  am  not  going  to  marry  you  at  all!"  de- 
clared the  girl,  bluntly,  her  words  striking  to  the 
youth's  heart  like  a  broad  slap  in  the  face. 

For  several  moments  he  rode  on  in  silence, 
a  dull,  red  flame  slowly  rising  beneath  the  olive 
of  his  cheek.  "Are  you  going  back  to  the  con- 
vent school!"  he  questioned,  for  he  had  no 
thought  of  a  rival,  so  long  had  he  been  master 
of  the  field. 

' '  I  am  not  going  to  school  any  more, ' '  she  in- 
formed him,  as  with  uplifted  head  she  sniffed  at 
the  fine  morning  breeze. 

A  slow  smile  of  amusement  played  over  the 
youth's  face,  as  he  gave  her  a  sidelong  glance. 
"Oh,  you're  a  young  lady  now — finished 
school 1 ' '  His  half-questioning  tones  tantalized 
her. 

"It's  all  because  I  like  the  prairie,  the  wild 
flowers,  rny  pony,  and  the  long,  long  rides  with 
the  padre  after  the  cattle,  better  than  the  con- 
vent walls.  The  senora  and  padre  will  not  make 
me  go  back  to  school,  if  I  do  not  want  to  go." 


LA    BELLE    SAN    AXTONE  255 

Her  words  were  spoken  with  a  little  touch  of 
defiance  in  her  tones,  looking  at  him  as  she 
spoke,  through  half-closed  lids,  and  her  chin 
slightly  tilted  upwards. 

' '  I  don 't  think  you  like  me  anymore,  Chiketa, ' ' 
he  said,  the  wide  rim  of  his  sombrero  sheltering 
from  her  view  the  red  flame  in  his  face. 

"Oh,  I  like  you,  Antone;  you  would  make  a 
jolly  good  brother,  but  I  don't  want  any  sweet- 
heart. I  don't  want  to  get  married  and  grow 
ugly  and  stupid  and  fat  like  the  Spanish  women 
down  in  San  Antonio. ' ' 

"Senora  Hackett  has  not  grown  ugly,  or 
stupid,  or  fat  either,  and  girls  are  often  like 
their  mothers  when  they  grow  older!'7 

As  though  seeking  to  ride  away  from  some- 
thing unpleasant,  she  dug  her  pony's  sides  with 
her  little  silver  spurs,  springing  away  in  a  long, 
swinging  gallop,  the  tall  grass  sweeping  the 
sides  of  her  pony  as  it  bent  from  the  evening 
breeze. 

All  day  had  Lieutenant  Fairfax  ridden  across 
country  in  the  same  swift,  steady  gait,  stopping 
to  noon  on  the  banks  of  a  stream  he  crossed. 
Tethering  his  horse  out  to  graze  and  for  a  short 
hour's  rest,  he  proceeded  to  spread  out  the  blan- 
ket to  dry,  and  then  throwing  himself  upon  the 
grass  he  let  his  mind  drift  into  speculation  upon 
the  future.  Suddenly  a  low,  muffled  sound,  like 
the  falling  of  many  waters,  fell  upon  his  ears. 
It  came  from  a  far  distance  and  he  could  not 
locate  the  direction.  As  he  listened  attentively, 


256  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

it  dawned  upon  him  that  it  was  the  midst  of  the 
mating  season  for  the  buffalo,  and  that  he  must 
be  nearing  one  of  the  big  herds  that  watered 
regularly  at  the  fords  of  the  Pecos  Eiver.  A 
snort  from  his  horse  where  he  was  tethered  to 
graze  brought  Fairfax  to  his  feet  with  a  bound. 
Sweeping  the  space  before  him  everywhere  with 
a  searching,  alert  gaze  he  saw  nothing,  but  still 
his  horse  reared  and  plunged  at  the  stake  rope. 
He  hurried  to  his  horse  and  on  close  examina- 
tion he  found  an  immense  rattlesnake  half  tram- 
pled to  death,  but  still  trying  to  spring  at  the 
horse.  With  his  revolver  Fairfax  quickly  dis- 
patched the  rattler,  and  after  petting  and  sooth- 
ing his  horse  into  a  quieter  mood,  he  buckled  on 
his  saddle  and  resumed  his  journey,  with  less 
than  three-quarters  of  an  hour's  rest.  Upon 
nearing  the  river  the  muffled  noise  grew  into  a 
loud  thundering  roar.  Fording  the  river  above 
the  location  of  the  tumult,  the  lieutenant  rode 
out  upon  a  slight  elevation,  and  with  his  field 
glass  looked  in  the  direction  from  whence  came 
that  steady  roar  that  held  no  variation  save  a 
slight  undertone  of  hissing. 

In  the  broad  bottoms  between  the  river  and 
the  sand-hills  to  the  south  he  saw  a  herd  of 
nearly  three  thousand  buffalo,  the  whole  mass 
covering  the  broad  bottoms.  He  rode  closer, 
until  with  his  field  glass  he  could  see  and  dis- 
tinguish their  movements.  Now  they  ran  here, 
then  there,  then  the  whole  body  of  them  would 
run  together  until  they  were  so  solidly  packed 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  257 

that  the  heads  had  to  be  elevated  to  prevent 
suffocation.  Then  suddenly  the  outside  ring 
would  scatter,  relieving  the  pressure  in  the  cen- 
ter, and  the  whole  mass  would  again  be  in  con- 
stant ferment.  Desperate  battles  between  mas- 
sive bulls  were  being  fought.  The  fight  never 
stopped  till  one  fell  and  was  quickly  gored  or 
trampled  to  death,  or  until  one  gave  way  and 
ran,  a  picture  of  bloody  misery.  As  Fairfax 
lowered  his  field  glass  and  rode  on  his  way 
(though  perfectly  familiar  with  such  scenes), 
he  could  not  forbear  the  conclusion,  that  the 
whole  buffalo  tribe  had  suddenly  gone  mad.  It 
had  gone  mad,  but  it  was  the  insanity  that 
among  men  is  called,  and  justly  so,  ' '  the  divine 
madness.7'  At  the  beginning  of  these  buffalo 
riots,  a  low,  strange  sound  is  first  noticed,  like 
the  sound  of  an  earthquake  which  seems  to  be 
stationed  everywhere — in  the  earth  and  in  the 
air.  It  is  the  most  unearthly  sound  ever  heard 
by  man,  with  its  wierd,  omnipresent,  and  un- 
changing sound,  continuing  for  two  months 
without  rising  or  falling  or  even  subsiding  in 
the  slightest  manner — that  bellowing  of  thou- 
sands upon  thousands  of  the  buffalo  bulls,  far 
and  near,  their  number  so  great  that  it  is  one 
steady,  sullen  roar,  until  the  ear  of  man,  becom- 
ing accustomed,  ceases  to  give  heed,  save  as  to 
the  sound  of  many  falling  waters. 

As  Lieutenant  Fairfax  was  riding  in  a  swing- 
ing gallop  late  in  the  evening,  each  mile  he  reeled 
off  bringing  him  closer  and  closer  to  the  Hackett 


258  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTOXE 

ranch,  he  was  suddenly  startled  in  his  train  of 
thought  as  a  fine  bunch  of  antelope  sprang  from 
covert  in  the  heart  of  a  chaparral  copse.  With 
the  swiftness  of  a  skilled  marksman  he  soon 
put  one  of  the  fleet-limbed  beauties  out  of  the 
fleeing  herd.  Springing  from  his  saddle  as  he 
reached  the  spot  where  the  wounded  antelope 
lay,  he  drew  his  knife  to  more  quickly  dispatch 
his  game.  There  was  a  look  of  death  in  the  soft, 
dewy  eyes  turned  upward  to  his.  "It's  done 
for;  no  need  of  that,"  he  told  himself,  as  the 
mute  look  in  the  dying  eyes  struck  a  chord  of 
sympathy  in  his  breast.  Sheathing  his  knife 
he  gave  the  dumb  creature  its  few  last  moments 
in  peace. 

A  last  backward  jerk  of  the  head,  and  a  sud- 
den stiffening  of  the  graceful  limbs,  and  the 
fallen  beauty  was  dead.  Gathering  the  antelope 
and  placing  it  on  his  horse  at  the  front  of  his 
saddle,  the  lieutenant  mounted  and  started  on 
his  way.  Standing  afar  off  and  watching  his 
movements  were  the  remainder  of  the  bunch  of 
antelopes  whose  companion  he  was  taking  away. 
The  sun  was  setting  as  he  rode  up  to  Hackett's 
gate;  and  as  he  threw  his  antelope  across  the 
fence  he  thought  of  the  Dakota  deer  slayer, 
and  the  offering  he  brought  for  the  purchase  of 
his  bride — beautiful  Minnehaha.  Pocketing  his 
emotions  as  he  caught  sight  of  a  slim  slip  of  a 
girl  beside  the  gateway,  he  carelessly  lifted  his 
hat,  and  then  put  forth  his  hand  to  greet  her. 
She  told  him,  rather  than  introduced  him  to  the 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  259 

youth  by  her  side,  "This  is  Antone,  the  boy  I 
was  tellin'  you  about  up  there  on  the  desert  the 
first  day  I  met  you." 

"I  have  the  pleasure,  I  believe,  of  meeting 
Senor  Xarnino,"  said  Fairfax,  as  he  put  forth 
his  hand  a  second  time  to  give  greeting.  '  *  Our 
fathers  were  great  friends,  I  am  told.  I  hope 
we  may  also  be  friends,"  he  continued. 

"Diablo,  senor,  the  sons  ofttirnes  differ  from 
their  fathers,"  ejaculated  Antone,  in  his  soft, 
Spanish  accent. 

"Eight  glad  to  see  you,  lieutenant,"  ex- 
claimed Hackett,  who  had  just  come  into  their 
midst,  following  the  heartily  spoken  words  with 
a  vigorous  hand-shake.  "Come  into  the  house. 
Come  into  the  house,"  he  repeated.  "The  boys 
will  take  care  of  the  game. ' '  And  he  leading  the 
way,  his  guest  followed. 

"You  called  me  a  boy,"  said  Antone,  in  pro- 
test. "I  am  as  old  as  he  is." 

The  girl's  quizzical  eyes  looked  him  over 
searchingly,  with  her  head  slanting  sideways. 

"I  don't  know  what  it  is,  Antone,  but  he  seems 
so  much  bigger  than  you.  It  is  not  in  what  you 
weigh,"  she  said,  as  Antone  looked  himself  over. 
"I  mean  inside  of  him,  the  part  that  makes  other 
men  mind  and  obey  him,  that  part  that  leads 
the  way  and  others  follow.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

"The  sir  knight  of  the  saddle,  eh?"  he  ques- 
tioned, half  ironically.  Continuing  in  the  same 
tone,  he  said:  "I  doubt  if  anything  more  than 


260  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

his  bigness  you  like  so  well ;  and  his  horse  and 
saddle  belong  to  him ! ' ' 

"Tsa!"  hissed  the  girl,  as  she  flung  him  a 
scorching  look  of  anger.  "  What  more  does  he 
need!" 

"Money,  if  he  would  rank  as  one  of  Senor 
Hackett's  friends,  and  be  a  guest  at  his  ha- 
cienda, ' '  he  said,  in  a  low,  tense  tone. 

* '  Where  would  you  stand,  Antone,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  the  chest  of  gold  you  and  Carlos  found 
where  your  grandfather,  the  old  Don,  had  buried 
it?  Your  gold  was  never  earned  by  yourself. 
Lieutenant  Fairfax  is  big  enough  to  make  gold 
for  himself."  With  the  last  declaration  she 
threw  him  a  look  of  angry  scorn,  and  fled  into 
the  house. 

Hurrying  to  her  mother's  bedroom  she  con- 
sulted the  oval  looking-glass  on  the  old  walnut 
bureau.  She  looked  at  her  pictured  face  stead- 
ily, searchingly.  "Oh,  if  they  would  only  stay 
down!"  she  cried  to  herself,  as  she  patted  and 
pulled  at  the  black,  unruly  locks  about  her  face 
and  brow.  She  noted  the  sun-tan  upon  her  cheek 
with  deep  chagrin,  and  vowed  inwardly  to  doff 
the  old  slouch  hat  and  take  to  the  sunbonnet. 
For  the  fiftieth  time  she  viewed  herself  after  the 
desired  change  had  been  wrought.  She  had  put 
aside  the  half  smock,  half  blouse  she  had  worn 
in  the  afternoon,  and  the  voluminous  leggins, 
gathered  into  a  band  at  the  knees  to  meet  her 
little  leathern  gaiters,  for  one  of  the  dresses  she 
had  worn  while  at  the  convent  school,  down  in 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  261 

San  Antonio.  The  balloon-like  leggins,  sinock, 
gaiters,  and  wide-awake  hat  were  her  favorite 
garb,  and  had  been  for  so  long  that  she  was 
awkward  and  shy  in  the  clinging  skirts.  The 
former  gave  her  limbs  freedom  of  movement  in 
riding,  roping,  and  helping  the  padre  at  the 
branding  corrals,  while  the  latter  wound  about 
her  limbs  and  made  her  feel  as  the  cayuses 
looked  to  her  when  wearing  hopples. 

The  dress  she  picked  from  her  scant  store  was 
an  orange-colored  baize,  made  with  extremely 
plain  skirt  and  bodice  and  long  sleeves.  The 
glorious  black  locks  were  dampened  to  make 
them  smooth  and  glossy  like  the  girls  wore 
theirs  at  the  convent,  and  that  they  might  not 
become  suddenly  unruly  without  warning  she 
fastened  the  dampened  locks  down  with  a  band 
of  black  velvet.  When  she  had  completed  her 
toilet  she  turned  her  mind  conjecturingly  to- 
ward her  limited  store  of  knowledge.  i  *  He  must 
be  awful  smart;  the  padre  said  he  was  a  grad- 
uate from  the  Virginia  college.  I  wonder  how 
smart  a  boy  or  girl  I  must  be  before  they  can 
graduate!  Oh  my,  I  wish  I  could  play  the  me- 
lodeon!" 

With  a  gasp  of  discouragement,  as  she  rea- 
lized her  deficiencies,  the  troubled  lass  sat  down 
and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  suffering  the 
keenest  regret  for  lost  opportunities.  Only  for 
a  moment  was  she  downcast.  Suddenly  spring- 
ing to  her  feet,  her  face  shining  with  a  deep  re- 
solve, she  threw  one  backward  glance  at  the 


262  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

grotesque  figure  in  the  old  looking-glass,  and 
feeling  herself  a  very  much  dressed-up  young 
lady,  she  inwardly  commanded:  "Forward, 
soldier,  to  the  firing  line  of  the  battle-field ! ' ' 

Senora  Hackett  was  exceedingly  pleased  when 
her  daughter  entered  the  room  a  few  moments 
later,  where  the  lieutenant  was  being  enter- 
tained by  her  and  her  husband.  With  great  de- 
light she  noted  the  careful  toilet  Chiketa  had 
made;  the  boyish  garb  she  so  persistently  clung 
to  was  becoming  a  great  source  of  worriment 
to  the  girPs  mother.  Hackett  noted  the  change 
without  seeming  to  see,  but  he  understood  it  was 
the  girPs  effort  to  please  the  lieutenant,  who 
had  risen  to  his  feet  at  her  approach  and  given 
her  his  chair.  Securing  another  for  himself,  he 
sat  near  her,  dividing  his  conversation  between 
the  three  until  he  felt  the  restraint  which  had  be- 
come apparent  at  the  girPs  entrance  into  the 
room  vanishing. 

An  tone  sulked  out  by  the  gateway,  where  the 
men  were  cleaning  and  dressing  the  antelope 
brought  in  by  the  lieutenant.  Already  the  demon 
of  jealousy  was  lurking  in  his  heart.  He  stood 
by  while  the  men  were  working  with  the  carcass 
they  were  dressing,  but  he  looked  on  with  un- 
seeing eyes,  for  he  was  seeing  another  scene 
upon  which  he  was  looking  with  his  inner  gaze. 
His  hands  were  thrust  deep  in  his  pockets,  and 
a  slight  scowl  gathered  upon  his  dark,  handsome 
face  as  he  listened  to  the  whisperings  in  his  ear 
— undefinable  whisperings  as  yet,  with  no  dis- 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  263 

tinct  articulation.  Chiketa  had  praised  Lieu- 
tenant Fairfax  and  had  ridiculed  him.  In  that 
lay  the  sting  of  his  decided  dislike  of  the  ranger 
from  the  start,  and  with  no  show  for  anything 
otherwise  unless  she  retracts  her  words,  he  told 
himself.  He  was  startled  from  his  thoughts  by 
the  sound  of  Hackett's  voice  speaking  to  the 
men  about  the  venison  they  were  taking  away  to 
be  hung  up  to  dry. 

"A  fine  specimen,  Antone,"  exclaimed  Hack- 
ett,  as  he  spread  the  antelope  hide  across  the 
fence.  Antone  nodded  his  head  in  the  affirma- 
tive, and  after  a  moment's  silence  he  asked: 
"How  long  is  Lieutenant  Fairfax  to  be  here, 
senor  ! ' ' 

"Antone,  that  is  a  long-ranged  shot.  I  never 
asked  even  myself  a  question  as  to  the  length 
of  a  friend's  stay  when  visiting  in  my  home." 
He  looked  at  Antone  while  speaking,  the  young 
man's  face  reddening  under  the  rebuke. 

The  summons  came  for  supper,  by  the  clang- 
ing of  an  old  Spanish  church  bell  suspended 
from  the  bough  of  a  giant  live-oak  near  by  the 
kitchen  doorway.  The  kitchen  stood  apart  from 
the  main  building,  after  the  southern  fashion, 
thus  keeping  all  fumes  of  the  cooking  from  the 
living  apartments.  It  was  the  domain  of  black 
Mandy,  who  reigned  supreme  over  all  she  sur- 
veyed. An  open  entry  led  from  the  kitchen  to 
the  dining-room,  a  big  square  room  with  low, 
raftered  ceiling.  Senora  Hackett  graced  the 
head  of  the  table  and  poured  the  coffee — that 


264  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

favorite  beverage  at  all  meals  of  the  natives  of 
Mexico  and  universally  adopted  in  the  same 
manner  by  the  Americans  who  had  settled  the 
Southwest — into  the  flaring,  blue-ringed  delf 
cups.  Sen  or  Hackett  occupied  the  host's,  place 
at  the  foot  of  the  table,  generously  supplying 
each  and  all  with  the  good  viands  covering  his 
plenteous  board. 

Antone  gave  Chiketa  a  questionable  smile 
across  the  table  from  where  he  sat,  as  he  noted 
the  change  in  her  attire.  The  girl  gave  him  a 
look  which  said  as  plainly  as  the  spoken  words, 
"Mind  your  own  business !"  Nevertheless,  she 
was  keenly  conscious  that  Antone  was  watching 
her  with  critical  eyes,  a  fact  which  made  her 
nervous  and  awkward.  Fairfax  saw  the  little 
by-play  across  the  table,  smiling  quietly  to  him- 
self as  he  caught  the  sly  little  grimace  twisting 
Chiketa  ?s  face,  as  she  sought  to  inform  Antone 
of  her  keen  displeasure  under  his  scrutinizing 
gaze.  He  left  the  two  to  fight  out  the  wordless 
battle,  directing  his  conversation  almost  entirely 
to  his  host  and  hostess.  After  the  evening  meal 
he  sat  with  his  host  out  on  the  wide,  cool  piazza, 
where  they  smoked  their  pipes  and  talked  of  the 
earlier  days  on  the  range  when  the  wild  hill 
cattle  were  plentiful  and  the  great  herds  of  wild 
horses  roamed  the  plains.  Hackett 's  observant 
eye  and  active  mind  had  gathered  a  wide  fund 
of  knowledge  during  his  long  life  of  adventure 
by  sea  and  land.  This,  coupled  with  his  genial, 
cordial  manner  and  easy  flow  of  speech,  made 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  265 

him  a  royal  entertainer.  Fairfax,  an  attentive 
listener  at  first,  became  fascinated  and  charmed 
with  the  narrations  as  they  proceeded,  and  the 
two  continued  talking  until  far  into  the  night. 
He  knew  that  Antone  and  the  girl  were  but  a 
few  feet  from  them,  sitting  in  an  angle  of  the 
porch,  talking  low  to  each  other,  during  the 
earlier  hours  in  the  evening.  At  times  their 
voices  rose  above  the  monotone  in  which  they 
had  been  conversing,  and  would  break  upon  the 
rich,  resonant  sound  of  his  host's  voice,  and  by 
their  intonations  he  knew  they  were  quarreling, 
and  felt  sure  the  bone  of  contention  between 
them  was  his  humble  self  and  his  sudden  and  un- 
expected appearance  at  the  ranch ;  but  this  fact 
did  not  bother  him  nor  alter  his  purpose.  He 
would  give  them  to-night,  however,  to  come  to  an 
understanding,  so  he  told  himself,  while  he  spent 
the  evening  listening  to  his  host's  interesting 
recitals  of  the  adventurous  days  of  the  earlier 
Southwest.  He  knew  when  the  senora  came  out 
on  the  veranda  and  joined  the  couple  in  the 
angle.  She  remained  with  them  for  a  short 
half  hour — the  three  talking  together — and 
when  she  left  the  nook  the  girl  was  with  her. 
For  a  moment  the  young  man  sat  in  sullen  si- 
lence, when  left  alone,  then  flinging  himself 
into  a  hammock,  which  hung  from  two  of  the 
low,  heavy  studdings  of  the  porch,  he  wrapped 
himself  again  in  utter  silence. 

It  was  past  the  midnight  hour  when  the  host 
and  his  guest  rose  from  their  seats  to  retire. 


260  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

As  Lieutenant  Fairfax  followed  in  the  wake  of 
his  host,  who  was  leading  him  to  his  room,  he 
passed  by  the  hammock  where  Antone  lay.  The 
moon  was  almost  down,  only  the  starlight  shone 
over  the  sleeper,  and  the  porch  was  darkened  by 
the  shadows  of  the  trees.  A  regret  stole  into 
the  lieutenant's  heart  that  they  should  be  rivals 
for  the  same  girl's  love — they  whose  fathers 
had  both  died  together  in  the  defense  of  the 
Alamo.  Chiketa  was  fast  asleep  long  ago,  with 
her  arms  flung  above  her  head  in  childish  aban- 
don, never  dreaming  that  she  was  playing  at 
marbles  with  precious  stones. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

It  was  the  round  horse  corrals  with  their 
snubbing  posts  in  the  center,  and  the  branding 
pens  for  the  cattle  about  the  foreman's  quarters, 
that  marked  Hackett's  absolution  on  his  pas- 
toral Spanish  grant.  There  were  other  outly- 
ing cabins  along  the  different  streams  over  his 
wide  domain,  for  the  shelter  of  the  ranch  hands 
in  times  of  severe  rainstorms  or  winter  bliz- 
zards, but  this  was  the  main  headquarters, 
where  the  army  of  Mexican  and  American  la- 
borers who  tended  his  flocks  and  herds,  con- 
gregated to  draw  their  pay  from  the  foreman. 
Like  a  brand  on  the  shoulder,  it  showed  high  on 
the  slope  leading  to  the  river  below. 

Dark  shadows  crept  over  the  foreman's  quar- 
ters as  the  last  rays  of  the  dying  moon  threw 
back  a  fitful  light.  The  hands  were  all  sleeping, 
the  Mexicans  wrapped  in  their  zarapes,  out  un- 
der the  stars,  just  by  the  door-way  of  the  fore- 
man 's  long  line  of  cabins.  Most  of  the  whites 
slept  inside  the  cabins  to  escape  the  numerous 
rattlesnakes  abounding  in  the  region.  This  pre- 
caution even  proved  futile  sometimes,  as  it  had 
frequently  happened  that,  upon  waking  in  the 
morning,  some  one  of  the  cattle  herders  had 
found  a  rattler  peacefully  sleeping,  coiled  up  in 
his  bed. 


268  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

One  of  the  Mexicans  was  not  sleeping,  but 
was  as  quiet  under  his  blanket  as  any  of  the 
others  whose  deep,  regular  breathing  told  they 
were  off  to  dreamland.  The  man  awa'ke  was 
Gavino  Martinez,  whose  father  had  led  one  of 
the  guerrilla  bands  of  the  earlier  days.  He  was 
not  of  the  peonage,  but  he  was  in  hiding  as  a 
common  gaucho  to  escape  the  heavy  hand  of 
the  law  for  a  murder  he  had  committed  down  on 
the  Rio  Grande,  or  Eio  Brava  as  the  stream  was 
earlier  known.  The  old  order  of  things  had 
passed  away  when  a  man  who  had  an  enemy  he 
hated  could  seek  him  out,  murder  him,  and  toss- 
ing the  body  in  a  stream,  go  on  about  his  busi- 
ness, forgetting  his  crime.  And  because  of  this 
change  in  the  order  of  things,  Gavino  Martinez 
was  in  hiding  as  a  common  herder  on  the  Mon- 
tezuma  ranch.  He  was  desperately  in  love  with 
the  little  senorita  up  at  the  "big  house, "  and 
the  fever  is  burning  hot  in  his  veins  to-night. 
Desperate  suggestions  are  whispering  them- 
selves into  his  ears,  as  he  lies  so  quietly  beneath 
his  blanket  under  the  stars.  These  same  self- 
suggestions  had  come  to  him  before,  but  oppor- 
tunity had  not  served  him  as  yet.  He  knew  the 
thing  upon  which  he  had  resolved  meant  swift 
and  certain  death  should  his  plans  fail  him,  but 
for  the  thing  he  desired  he  was  fearless  to  dare 
and  do. 

A  low  whine  from  old  Saucer,  the  leader  of  a 
pack  of  bear  dogs  which  belonged  on  the  ranch, 
caused  Gavino  to  prick  up  his  ears  and  listen. 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  269 

He  heard  the  door  of  one  of  the  cabins  open,  and 
old  Saucer  bounded  through  the  open  door-way 
with  a  vicious  growl.  It  was  the  foreman  who 
had  opened  the  door;  and  simultaneously  with 
the  dog's  savage  growl  came  the  shrill  scream 
of  a  panther,  which  sounded  but  a  few  feet  away. 
The  sleeping  Mexicans,  now  wide  awake,  sprang 
from  beneath  their  blankets,  self-preservation 
driving  them  headlong  into  the  cabins.  All  but 
Martinez,  who  remained  where  he  was,  sullen 
and  defiant  in  the  face  of  imminent  danger.  It 
meant  something  he  could  rend  and  tear  or  be 
torn — something  that  answered  to  the  savage 
callings  of  his  desperate  nature.  The  wind  was 
blowing  from  the  direction  whence  came  the  cry 
of  the  panther,  and  he  knew  it  could  not  scent 
him.  Slipping  his  hand  under  his  head  for  his 
pistol,  which  nightly  rested  there,  he  made  ready 
and  waited.  Hardly  had  he  done  so  when  there 
came  another  prolonged,  unearthly  scream,  and 
by  the  starlight  he  could  see  a  long,  sinuous  body 
gliding  past  him  toward  the  corner  of  one  of  the 
cabins.  He  fired  at  the  bulk,  aiming  as  near  the 
head  and  shoulders  as  the  starlight  could  direct 
him.  There  followed  a  succession  of  savage 
growls  and  desperate  writhings  as  his  enemy 
made  for  him.  Martinez  had  leaped  from  be- 
neath his  blanket  at  the  first  firing  of  his  pistol, 
and  as  the  panther  made  for  him,  dragging  a 
useless  foreleg  as  it  bounded  forward,  he  sent 
two  quick,  successive  shots  full  into  its  breast. 
The  cowboys  all  came  pouring  out  of  the  cabin 


270  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

doors,  which  had  been  flung  wide  open  at  the 
sound  of  the  first  shot,  consternation  upon  their 
faces,  for  all  within  had  supposed  no  man  had 
been  left  outside.  They  reached  the  scene  just 
as  the  panther  made  the  attack  on  the  Mexican, 
who  met  his  antagonist  with  the  last  two  shots. 
With  the  men  came  old  Saucer,  the  bear  hound, 
who  plunged  with  one  bound  into  the  growling 
mass,  still  charging  defiantly  upon  the  Mexican. 
Over  and  under,  above  and  beneath,  eye  to 
eye  and  breast  to  breast,  leaping  and  straining, 
the  fight  between  the  supple,  enduring  strength  of 
the  toughened  well-trained  bear  dog  and  the  cush- 
ioned muscles  that  rippled  and  knotted  and 
twisted  beneath  the  glossy  skin  of  the  panther. 
Lights  were  hastily  brought  out,  and  the  men 
looked  on,  fascinated  with  the  scene  before  them, 
crying  out  words  of  encouragement  to  the  dog, 
such  as,  "Eat  him  up,  Saucer!"  "Good  old 
dog!"  "Go  after  him,  Saucer!"  "Get  at  his 
throat,  Saucer!"  The  men  spoke  in  low,  en- 
couraging tones  as  they  urged  their  favorite  on. 
Furious  oaths  blended  with  the  savage  growls 
of  the  fighting  beasts.  Gashing  claws  ripped 
bloody  furrows  on  chest  and  sides  as  the  dog 
and  panther  each  sought  for  a  vantage  grip  to 
kill  each  other.  The  panther  lost  his  guard  once 
—he  was  handicapped  by  his  desperate  wounds 
—and  the  slip  gave  the  dog  the  victory.  He 
opened  his  mouth,  now  filled  with  bloody  spume, 
and  clutching  the  panther's  throat,  closed  his 
massive  jaws  down  with  a  vice-like  grip,  keep- 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  271 

ing  skilfully  out  of  the  way  of  the  panther's 
feet,  that  were  now  striking  at  him  aimlessly 
and  without  effect.  The  struggle  over,  the  men 
rubbed  the  dog  down,  sewed  up  his  wounds, 
washed  out  his  mouth,  and  rubbed  the  strained 
muscles  to  prevent  soreness.  The  panther  meas- 
ured twelve  feet,  so  the  cowboys  said,  from  the 
tip  of  the  tail  to  the  point  of  the  ear. 

The  news  was  carried  to  the  main  ranch  at  the 
earliest  peep  of  dawn,  for  the  men  slept  no  more 
that  night  at  the  foreman's  cabin  quarters,  for 
they  were  busy  about  the  corrals  quieting  the 
snorting,  plunging  horses  that  had  been  panic- 
stricken  by  the  screams  of  the  panther,  who  had 
been  lured  to  his  death  by  the  scent  of  fresh 
blood  from  a  beef  that  had  been  butchered  that 
day. 

The  men  from  the  * i  big  house ' '  came  down  to 
look  upon  the  scene  of  the  battle  and  view  the 
desert  slayer,  and  Chiketa  came  with  them. 
Gavino  and  Saucer  were  the  heroes  of  the  hour 
that  day.  Once  the  girl  was  near  the  Mexican 
as  he  stood  leaning  his  shoulder  against  the  wall 
of  one  of  the  huts.  Fairfax  was  beside  her  and 
they  were  looking  at  the  dead  panther.  The 
girl  looked  up  into  the  Mexican's  face  with  a 
gentle  smile  as  she  said :  t  i  How  brave  you  were 
to  remain  out  here  all  alone  to  protect  the  horses 
from  being  mangled  by  this  beast.  I  will  ask 
the  padre  to  remember  and  reward  your  cour- 
age." 

"  It  was  nothing,  senorita,"  said  the  Mexican, 


272  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

as  he  lifted  his  dirty  sombrero  and  turned  his 
face  away,  blinded  by  the  soft  beauty  of  her  girl- 
ish face,  the  hot  blood  running  riotously  in  his 
veins  and  sweeping  away  all  bridges  of  safety. 

Once,  that  day,  Lieutenant  Fairfax  found 
Chiketa  alone,  and  coming  close  to  her  side  he 
said  to  her  in  his  gentlest  and  most  tender  tones, 
"To  please  me,  Chiketa,  won't  you  dress  your- 
self up  in  the  little  deer-skin  boots,  doublets, 
]eggins,  and  spurs  you  wore  that  day  up  there  on 
the  desert  when  I  first  met  you  I ' ' 

She  tried  to  laugh  aside  his  wooing,  but  every 
jesting  word  she  could  think  of  died  upon  her 
lips,  and  her  color  deepened  beneath  his  com- 
pelling gaze.  "If  you  wish  it;  but  the  senora 
says  1  am  too  much  of  a  grown-up  to  still  wear 
such  clothes." 

"I  like  them,"  he  said.  "To  me  you  are  the 
most  beautiful  girl  in  all  the  world,  no  matter 
whether  the  gown  you  wear  be  of  silk  or  cotton, 
but  I  shall  always  like  you  best  as  I  first  saw  you 
that  day." 

Like  a  flash  of  sunshine  the  girl  disappeared, 
her  heart  light  with  its  bursting  happiness,  and 
her  feet  moving  as  if  treading  the  wind.  She 
was  glad,  because  she  loved  him  and  because  the 
look  in  his  face  and  the  soft  tenderness  in  his 
voice  told  her  that  he  loved  her.  How  quickly  a 
woman's  intuition  tells  her  when  she  is  the  cen- 
ter of  the  universe  to  the  heart  of  her  best  be- 
loved !  The  girl  returned  to  him  her  other  self, 
garbed  in  the  clothes  she  loved  best,  and  in  which 


LA   BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  273 

her  limbs  could  move  freely.  The  little  spurs 
were  jingling,  and  the  sheathed  knife  protruded 
from  her  pocket  just  as  it  did  the  day  she  cooked 
his  dinner  for  him  over  the  sage-brush  fire. 

"Now  come  let  us  go  for  a  ride,"  he  said, 
"and  we  will  try  the  speed  of  our  horses  as  we 
did  that  day." 

She  passed  on  before  him  as  they  went  in 
search  of  their  horses,  giving  him  a  bantering 
reply  as  she  laughingly  said :  '  i  Oh,  Lieutenant, 
there  is  no  cayuse  in  all  the  Pecos  and  Nueces 
valleys,  or  from  north  country  either,  that  can 
beat  my  Bed  Calf  in  a  long  run." 

She  was  herself  now,  and  his  heart  bounded 
with  gladness.  He  told  himself  that  he  didn't 
care  if  he  never  saw  her  in  those  horrible  skirts 
again.  "It  is  like  tying  the  wings  of  some 
bright-plumaged  bird,"  was  his  inward  thought 
as  he  watched  her  natural  grace,  as  she  vaulted 
lightly  into  her  saddle,  her  pony  starting  into  a 
spirited  gallop,  and  he  following  by  her  side. 
They  rode  for  long  hours  and  visited  many 
points  of  interest  about  the  ranch,  much  the 
same  as  she  and  Antone  had  ridden  just  the  day 
before;  but  her  heart  is  singing  a  new,  happy 
tune  to-day,  and  her  laugh  is  full  of  merriment 
and  glee.  She  leading  and  he  following,  they 
rode  over  wide  stretches  of  prairie,  up  dale  and 
down  dale,  over  marshy  places,  across  the  river, 
and  through  seas  of  tall,  waving  grass  that 
swept  their  saddle  girths. 

About  one  o'clock  they  rode  out  on  a  high 


274  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

plateau,  hoppled  out  their  horses  to  graze,  and 
went  about  preparing  their  own  dinner.  The 
girl  brought  forth  from  her  grub-sack,  attached 
to  the  back  of  her  saddle,  many  good  things  she 
had  beguiled  from  old  black  Mandy  before  start- 
ing on  their  jaunt.  She  spread  them  all  out  on 
the  grass  in  tempting  array,  and  then  sat  down 
with  her  comrade  to  eat.  They  were  both  hun- 
gry from  their  long  ride,  and  they  soon  dis- 
patched their  meal,  after  which  they  sat  for  a 
long  time  talking.  Once  the  lieutenant  rose  to 
look  after  the  hopples  on  the  horses,  to  be  sure 
they  were  secure.  The  girl  looked  after  him, 
surveying  his  finely  knit  form  with  the  critical 
eye  of  a  connoisseur.  The  symmetrical  lines, 
melting  one  into  the  other,  of  his  powerful 
limbs,  pleased  her  girlish  fancy.  Again  did  the 
waves  of  regret  for  the  lost  opportunities  of  the 
school-room  beat  upon  her  soul,  and  when  he 
came  back  to  her,  from  attending  to  the  horses, 
he  found  that  a  shadow  had  crept  into  her  face. 
He  had  no  sooner  resumed  his  seat  than  she 
touched  upon  the  subject  that  gave  her  such 
soreness  of  mind,  by  saying  to  him,  ' l  The  padre 
and  the  senora  both  think  I  need  to  go  back  to 
the  convent  to  school,  Lieutenant. "  She  "looked 
searchingly  into  his  face,  where  she  expected  to 
see  her  doom,  for  within  her  soul  she  loathed 
and  hated  the  strict  confinement  of  the  convent 
walls,  but  she  was  ready  and  willing,  if  the  lieu- 
tenant thought  as  her  parents  did,  to  go  back  to 
school.  Nay,  if  it  pleased  him,  and  he  wished  it, 


LA    BELLE    SAX    ANTONE  275 

she  would  study  hard  and  become  a  smart,  edu- 
cated young  lady,  like  those  eastern  belles  he 
knows 'and  must  think  so  very  fine,  she  told  her- 
self with  bitter  regret. 

"I  judge  by  the  look  on  your  face,  senorita, 
that  you  do  not  like  the  seclusion  of  the  con- 
vent," answered  the  lieutenant,  half  smilingly. 

"It  is  dreadful,  dreadful!"  and  she  breathed 
in  long  draughts  of  the  fragrant  air  playing 
about  them. 

"Then  why  go!"  he  questioned. 

"The  padre  wishes  it;  the  senora  wishes  it 
and  you — you  must  see  yourself,  Lieutenant,  that 
I  am  not  like  other  girls.  I  don't  care  for  the 
things  other  girls  like.  To  me  the  free  life  of  the 
plains,  with  the  wind  singing  its  many  songs  as 
it  sweeps  through  the  tall  grasses  and  plays 
over  the  wild  flowers,  is  one  long,  happy  day. 
The  padre  wishes  that  I  should  be  like  those 
eastern  belles,  who  can  sing,  and  play  the  melo- 
deon,  and  paint  pictures,  and  do  all  sorts  of 
things.  Do  you  think  a  girl  is  nicer  who  can  do 
all  that?"  In  her  desperation  she  was  putting 
the  question  to  him  direct. 

"It  all  depends,"  said  the  lieutenant,  dread- 
ing almost  to  breathe  loud  lest  he  startle  her  into 
dropping  a  veil  over  her  heart,  which  she  was  so 
innocently  laying  bare  before  him.  He  waited, 
listening,  and  hoping  she  would  take  up  the 
same  strain  again.  Her  face  showed  some  in- 
ward struggle  was  goin  on. 

"I  can  try  once  more.    If  the  padre  and  the 


276  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

senora  and — and — you  wish  me  to  go  back  to  the 
convent  I  '11  go — but  oh,  if  the  senora  had  never 
allowed  me  to  leave  off  skirts.  They  make  me 
feel  as  a  horse  looks  wearing  hopples ! ' ' 

A  roaring  burst  of  laughter  escaped  the  lieu- 
tenant, and  joyfully  flinging  his  arms  close  about 
her,  he  gathered  her  to  his  bosom  and  covered 
her  face  with  kisses.  Holding  her  from  him  as 
he  looked  at  her,  his  eyes  dancing  with  merri- 
ment, he  said:  "So  you  want  to  be  like  those 
eastern  belles,  and  go  through  life  wearing  hop- 
ples like  our  cayuses?" 

She  did  not  answer  him,  but  was  struggling 
hard  to  loosen  herself  from  his  embrace.  Touch- 
ing her  cheek  with  his  palm  as  he  pressed  his 
face  close  to  hers,  he  said,  in  his  softest  and 
most  gentle  tones :  ' '  There,  there,  now,  my  little 
eaglet,  don 't  beat  your  wings  so  hard ;  you  are 
captured,  and  your  captor  will  see  that  they 
don 't  tame  your  spirit  and  train  you  to  sing  like 
the  canary  in  his  narrow  cage!"  Lifting  her 
face  to  his,  he  gently  kissed  her  red  lips.  She 
smiled  back  at  him  and  lay  passive  in  his  arms, 
out  there  beneath  the  southern  sun  and  the 
sweetness  of  its  tropical  perfumes. 

He  talked  to  her  and  told  her  how  he  would 
himself  be  her  tutor  in  any  branch  of  study  she 
should  ever  care  to  follow.  i  l  But  my  little  wife 
will  never  be  more  charming  to  me  than  as  she  is 
to-day.  The  padre  and  the  senora  must  go  with 
us  to  San  Antonio,  where  we  can  find  a  priest  to 
perform  the  all-important  ceremony. " 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  277 

"And  I'll  study  hard,  Lieutenant,  and  you  will 
help  me  with  my  lessons,  and  when  they  get  dull 
and  I  am  tired,  we  will  go  for  a  long,  long  ride 
over  the  prairies ! ' ' 

"That  we  will;  and  you  can  study  when  you 
like,  and  when  you  don't  want  to  you  can  spend 
the  time  talking  to  me,"  replied  the  ardent  lover. 

"And  there  will  be  no  convent  walls  to  shut 
out  the  blue  sky  and  the  sunshine,"  cried  the  de- 
lighted girl,  as" she  sprang  from  her  seat,  gave  a 
hitch  to  her  little  leggins  and  began  gathering 
up  the  cooking  utensils  with  which  they  had  pre- 
pared their  dinner.  She  rolled  them  up  in  the 
blanket  and  tied  them  fast  behind  her  saddle 
again,  while  Lieutenant  Fairfax  went  for  their 
horses.  With  the  graceful  ease  he  loved  so  well, 
he  saw  her  vault  lightly  into  her  saddle,  and 
start  on  ahead  of  him  in  a  slow,  easy  canter. 
Red  Calf,  her  pony,  seemed  to  catch  the  happy 
throb  in  the  heart  of  his  mistress,  and  surging 
against  his  martingales,  he  indulged  in  a  series 
of  prancings  and  playful  f rolickings.  He  was  a 
bright  sorrel,  with  graceful  limbs,  built  for  fleet- 
ness  and  endurance;  his  name  had  been  taken 
from  that  of  an  Indian  chief. 

Antone  had  sulked  all  day,  and  in  his  heart 
swore  vengeance  against  the  lieutenant,  while 
Gavino  Martinez  swore  deep  in  his  heart  a  bitter 
revenge  upon  Antone.  Lieutenant  Fairfax  was 
an  unknown  quantity  to  him  in  the  struggle  for 
the  little  senorita's  love.  He  knew  he  could 


278  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

never  win  against  the  rich  Spaniard  from  San 
Antonio.  He  was  handicapped  in  every  way.  So 
he  had  decided,  in  the  frenzy  of  his  desperation, 
to  kidnap  the  girl  and  carry  her  away  bodily, 
and  for  this  he  was  biding  his  time  until  a  favor- 
able opportunity  presented  itself.  The  smile 
she  had  given  him  as  she  stood  by  the  dead  pan- 
ther had  sent  the  warm  blood,  like  an  electrical 
wave,  tingling  through  his  veins,  and  hurried 
him  in  his  plans  for  the  abduction. 

Lieutenant  Fairfax  and  his  little  fiancee 
parted  at  the  gateway  upon  returning  from  their 
long  ride,  the  lieutenant  to  go  with  his  host,  who 
wished  to  show  him  some  fine  merinos  just 
brought  in  from  his  flocks. 

Chiketa  had  found  Antone  at  her  elbow  soon 
after  her  return,  and  at  his  urgent  request  she 
walked  with  him  down  the  garden  path,  past  the 
beds  of  catnip,  sage,  and  tansy,  down  to  where 
the  narrow  walk  led  into  the  open,  through  the 
little  picket  gate  leading  to  the  big  blackberry 
patch  that  ran  along  the  back  of  the  garden.  The 
berry  brambles  grew  thick  amid  a  scattering 
growth  of  low  scrub  oaks.  Antone  was  telling 
her  that  he  was  leaving  the  next  day  for  San 
Antonio,  and  that  he  wanted  to  talk  to  her  before 
leaving,  and  that  this  was  why  he  wished  her  to 
walk  with  him  to  where  they  could  be  alone  for  a 
few  moments.  He  did  not  intend  to  return  until 
she  asked  him  to  come,  he  told  her,  for  he  felt  he 
had  been  insulted  by  the  way  she  had  treated 
him  in  spending  the  entire  day  with  that  "ruf- 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  279 

fian  ranger, ' '  as  he  termed  the  lieutenant.  They 
were  in  the  depths  of  the  berry-copse,  where  the 
zig-zag  path  they  had  been  following  had  led 
them.  The  girl  sought  to  convince  him  of  his 
foolishness  in  thinking  as  he  did,  and  hotly  de- 
nied the  charge  of  "ruffian"  against  the  lieuten- 
ant. Neither  of  them  saw  the  brambles  near 
them  moving  as  they  were  slowly  parted,  and  a 
dark  face  peered  out  at  them  for  a  moment.  It 
was  Martinez.  He  had  seen  them  walk  down  the 
garden  path  as  he  was  starting  for  the  fore- 
man's quarters,  after  his  work  of  helping  to 
bring  in  the  sheep  from  the  main  flocks.  While 
Fairfax  and  his  host  were  engaged  in  admiring 
the  fine  merinos,  Martinez  took  a  circuitous 
route,  and  soon  found  himself  alongside  of  the 
couple  so  deeply  engaged  in  their  own  thoughts. 
Cautiously  he  crept  to  where  they  had  stopped, 
still  standing  as  they  talked.  From  shelter  to 
shelter  down  the  way  he  had  followed  them ;  he 
had  his  knife  out  and  was  feeling  along  its  edge 
with  his  calloused  finger;  his  eyes  had  grown 
sullen  and  dangerous,  and  all  his  senses  were 
keenly  on  the  alert.  One  swift  bound,  a  desper- 
ate plunge  of  the  knife,  and  the  man  talking  to 
the  girl  amidst  the  deep  falling  shadows  sank  to 
the  earth  with  a  deep  groan  of  agonizing  pain. 
Far  away,  Lieutenant  Fairfax  heard  what 
sounded  to  him  like  a  woman's  scream;  then  all 
was  still. 

Grasping  the  girl  tightly  in  his  arms,  after 
having  securely  gagged  her  and  bound  her  limbs, 


280  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

the  Mexican  moved  with  swift-flying  feet 
through  the  deepening  shadows,  making  for  the 
heavier  timber  along  the  river.  A  restlessness 
swept  over  Fairfax,  caused  by  an  inward  sense 
as  of  some  impending  peril,  coming  from  whence 
he  could  not  tell.  He  and  his  host  were  walking 
toward  the  house  from  the  sheep  corrals,  when 
a  chubby  black  face,  with  rolling  eyes,  dashed  up 
before  them.  ' i  Please,  massa — M-m-i-s-s — Keta 
k-k-i-lled!"  "What's  that!"  both  of  the  star- 
tled men  question  simultaneously,  Hackett  grab- 
bing the  stuttering  negro  by  the  arm  and  shak- 
ing him  until  his  teeth  chattered,  he  was  so  ex- 
cited. Stuttering,  and  half  dead  from  fright, 
the  little  negro  finally  made  them  understand 
what  he  had  to  tell.  It  was  Solomon,  the  ebony- 
faced  son  of  the  house  slave,  old  black  Mandy, 
the  cook.  He  had  been  "  twisting "  a  rabbit  out 
of  a  hollow  tree  with  a  long  switch,  when  a  man 
came  running  close  by  him,  stooping  and  hiding 
as  he  ran;  then  he  stopped  still,  and  then  he 
jumped  over  the  blackberry  briers,  holding  a 
long  knife  in  his  hand.  The  negro  declared  he 
heard  a  man  groan,  and  saw  Miss  Keta  carried 
away  by  the  man  who  had  the  knife.  The  lieu- 
tenant's face  was  white,  with  a  cold,  set  look,  as 
he  put  the  trembling  negro  in  front  of  him  and 
said  peremptorily :  ' i  Move  on  ahead.  Lead  the 
way  and  show  us  the  place  where  all  this  hap- 
pened." Boiling  his  eyes  in  a  backward  glance 
to  see  that  protection  was  following  close  be- 
hind, the  negro  boy  ran  with  swift-flying  feet 


LA   BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  281 

down  the  garden  path  and  through  the  picket 
gate  leading  into  the  blackberry  patch.  Fairfax 
was  right  at  his  heels,  both  of  them  following  the 
winding  path  in  its  circuitous  turns,  until  they 
stumbled  over  the  prostrate  form  of  the 
wounded  man  of  whom  they  were  in  search. 

Fairfax  bent  over  the  prostrate  form  and 
straightened  it  from  the  cramped  position  in 
which  it  had  fallen.  A  groan,  faint  but  distinct, 
came  from  the  lips  of  Antone,  as  the  lieutenant 
bent  over  him.  "Who  did  this!"  asked  the 
ranger,  in  eager,  tense  tones,  fearing  Jest  death 
might  cheat  him  of  that  knowledge.  He  was 
down  on  his  knees  by  the  dying  man's  side,  his 
ear  close  to  his  mouth.  He  caught  the  name 
plainly — Antone  had  recognized  his  murderer 
during  the  brief  second  the  knife  had  flashed  in 
the  air  above  him — and  the  name  came  dis- 
tinctly from  his  lips  as  Fairfax  bent  his  listen- 
ing ear  to  catch  the  whispered  word  "Mar-ti- 
nez!' 

Springing  erect,  the  lieutenant  looked  about 
him  at  the  crowd  of  laborers  who  had  followed 
after  him,  Hackett,  and  the  negro  boy.  "Who 
is  Martinez  ?"  he  questioned  of  every  one  and 
any  one  who  might  answer  first.  His  tones  were 
harsh  and  commanding.  Several  voices  an- 
swered: "The  man  what  killed  the  painter 
down  to  the  furman's  quarters  las'  night  I" 

"Ah!  I  remember  him!"  said  the  lieutenant, 
who  instantly  recalled  the  man  standing  by  the 
cabin  wall,  in  the  early  forenoon,  when  he  and 


282  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

Chiketa  were  looking  at  the  dead  panther.  With 
cool  presence  of  mind  the  ranger  had  ordered 
his  horse  saddled  and  brought  on  after  him  as 
he  started  with  the  negro  boy  to  find  the  place 
where  the  tragedy  had  occurred.  Calling  the 
negro  boy,  he  made  him  show  him  the  direction 
in  which  the  man  was  running  with  the  girl  in 
his  arms  when  he  saw  him  last.  "  Eight  dat 
way,  massa;  right  dat  way,"  pointing  toward 
the  river,  where  the  timber  gradually  thickened 
until  it  swelled  into  a  dense,  dark  body. 

Fairfax  was  into  his  saddle  and  off  like  a 
flash  through  the  timber  and  on  toward  the 
river,  closely  followed  by  Hackett  and  a  number 
of  the  hands,  all  mounted  on  swift  horses  and 
heavily  armed.  The  body  of  the  wounded  man 
was  left  in  the  care  of  Senora  Hackett — some 
half  dozen  of  the  men  had  carried  Antone  to  the 
house — while  the  lieutenant  and  Hackett  led  the 
way  in  their  search  for  the  missing  girl.  The 
news  was  carried  to  the  foreman 's  quarters,  and 
the  cowboys  joined  in  the  chase,  breathing 
curses  of  vengeance  against  the  greaser  when 
once  he  was  found. 

Martinez  had  failed  to  make  his  plans  work. 
His  intention  all  along  had  been  to  secure  a 
good  mount  when  he  made  the  abduction,  but 
the  opportunity  to  secure  his  horse  and  saddle 
had  not  come,  hence  he  was  forced  to  swim  the 
river  with  the  girl  tied  upon  his  back — for  cross 
the  river  he  must  before  he  could  reach  his 
hiding-place,  the  underground  passage  of  the 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  283 

old  ruined  mission  down  in  the  valley,  more  than 
nine  miles  away. 

Though  helpless  in  the  hands  of  her  captor, 
the  girl's  courage  did  not  forsake  her.  She  saw 
they  were  entering  the  woods  leading  to  the 
river.  She  realized  the  desperate  situation  she 
was  in,  and  with  no  hope  for  help,  as  Antone's 
lips  were  closed  in  death  ere  this,  and  in  that 
lonely  place  no  one  would  find  him  until,  by  ac- 
cident, his  rotting  body  might  be  found.  She 
felt  for  her  sheath-knife,  and,  to  her  great  joy, 
it  was  still  in  her  hip  pocket.  It  was  then  she 
began  to  plan  a  desperate  risk  to  secure  her  free- 
dom. Cautiously,  carefully,  she  slipped  the 
knife  with  her  hands  tied  at  her  back.  Her 
heart  bounded  with  joy  as  she  at  last  felt  her 
knife  in  her  hands.  Jolting  and  bumping  over 
stumps  and  rough  places  they  went.  Their 
progress  was  slow,  for  their  way  was  leading 
through  rough  places.  Carefully  she  cut  the 
cords  holding  her  hands,  and  then,  crooking  her 
feet  and  legs  upward  until  they  met  her  hands, 
she  carefully  cut  the  leather  thongs  binding  her 
feet.  At  last  they  reached  the  river,  and  her 
captor  placed  his  burthen  upon  the  ground.  She 
carefully  maintained  the  semblance  of  still  be- 
ing bound  fast,  both  hand  and  foot.  While  her 
captor  busied  himself  making  preparations  to 
cross  the  river  the  girl  decided  to  take  her 
chances,  and  springing  to  her  feet  she  darted 
away  from  him  through  the  darkness,  her 
sheath-knife  drawn  and  her  mind  filled  with  the 


284  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

determination  to  plunge  it  deep  into  his  heart 
if  he  recaptured  her. 

' '  Caramba ! ' '  hissed  the  Mexican,  as  he 
dashed  through  the  darkness  after  the  fleeing 
girl,  who  had  cut  the  cords  from  her  limbs,  and 
with  her  freed  hands  had  removed  the  rag  he 
had  stuffed  and  tied  into  her  mouth.  Into  the 
darkest  places  she  plunged,  seeking  to  blur  his 
view  of  her  fleeing  figure.  Crossing  and  doub- 
ling on  the  track,  rabbit  fashion,  she  sped 
swiftly  on,  gaining  ground  on  him  with  every 
step.  Afar  in  the  distance  she  heard  voices  and 
the  beat  of  horses '  feet,  and  hope  dawned  in  her 
heart ;  but  her  breath  was  coming  hard,  and  her 
knees  were  growing  weak.  She  summoned  all 
her  courage  to  the  effort,  and  with  a  last  fresh 
spurt  of  speed  she  entered  the  open,  making  for 
the  ranch.  The  blood  was  rushing  into  her  ears 
with  drum-like  beats;  there  was  a  heavy  pain 
tugging  at  her  breast,  but  she  kept  on,  for  now 
she  could  hear  men's  voices  closer,  hallooing  to 
each  other.  Her  pursuer's  breath  was  labored, 
too,  and  she  could  hear  his  foot-beats  close  be- 
hind her.  With  one  last  desperate  effort  to  save 
herself  she  gave  forth  a  dry,  screeching  cry  of 
"Help,  h-e-l-p!"  and  then  the  blackness  of  un- 
consciousness enveloped  her. 

When  she  came  to  herself  she  was  in  her  own 
bed,  and  the  senora's  arms  were  clasped  around 
her.  The  padre  was  there,  too,  and  he  had  cried 
until  his  eyes  were  all  bloodshot.  The  lieuten- 
ant also  was  there,  so  tall,  so  handsome  and  so 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  285 

big,  and  looking  at  her  now  with  such  unutter- 
able things  in  his  fine  blue  eyes.  They  nursed 
her  back  to  strength,  and  when  she  asked  for 
Antone  they  told  her  he  had  been  taken  to  San 
Antonio.  She  was  quiet  for  a  long  time  after 
they  told  her,  but  she  never  asked,  for  somehow 
she  knew  that  the  next  she  would  see — and  all 
she  would  ever  see — of  Antone  again  would  be 
his  grave.  It  was  more  than  a  year  before  they 
told  her  how  the  Mexican  had  been  lynched 
where  he  was  captured,  and  his  body  flung  into 
the  river  to  rot.  She  was  the  lieutenant's  wife 
then,  and  it  was  he  himself  who  told  her.  It  was 
he  who  had  heard  her  cry  of  despair,  just  as  he 
had  heard  the  half -smothered  cry  she  had  given 
when  first  captured.  The  Mexican,  seeing  he 
was  hard  pressed,  was  turning  from  the  chase 
and  seeking  to  evade  capture,  but  the  woods 
were  full  of  men  and  there  was  no  escape  for 
him.  The  cowboys  had  swung  him  up  to  the 
first  limb  and  filled  his  body  with  bullets. 

Antone 's  body  was  taken  to  San  Antonio,  and 
his  mother  requested  that  he  be  buried  in  the 
flower  court  of  the  old  Arguella  home;  and  it 
was  there  that  the  only  girl  he  had  ever  loved 
came  one  day  to  strew  flowers  upon  his  grave. 
Fairfax  stood  by  his  wife's  side,  his  hate  re- 
moved and  his  head  bowed,  while  in  his  heart 
was  a  sad  regret  for  the  untimely  death  of  the 
man  filling  such  an  early  grave,  for  a  closer  tie 
than  merely  man  to  man  had  bound  them.  Only 
just  across  the  river,  in  the  shadow  of  the  old 


286  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

Alamo,  had  both  their  fathers  died,  true  friends 
to  the  last,  and  doubly  true  to  their  country  and 
to  their  loved  ones. 

It  is  to-day  a  far  cry  that  reaches  back  to  that 
time.  The  old  town  has  lifted  herself  out  of  all 
the  difficulties  that  beat  upon  her,  and  is  ac- 
knowledged in  foreign  lands,  as  well  as  under 
the  "Red,  White  and  Blue,"  to  be  a  queen  of 
royal  heritage.  No  people  are  more  genial, 
more  glad  of  heart,  or  more  delightful  to  meet 
than  her  handsome  men  and  fair-faced  women. 
The  old-time  chivalry  of  the  South  is  among 
them.  Down  from  Government  Hill  sweeps  the 
gay  military  equipages,  filled  with  the  flower  of 
the  American  army,  showing  that  still  the  old 
town  above  the  forks  of  the  rivers  holds  to  her 
first  love — that  of  the  brilliant  attaches  of  mili- 
tary life. 

The  turbulent,  vehement  military  post  of  old 
has  grown  into  a  beautiful  modern  city  of  colos- 
sal wealth  and  palatial  homes.  Tourists  from 
afar  come  to  seek  benefit  for  their  health,  and  to 
look  upon  her  majestic  sweeps  of  beautiful 
scenery.  Throughout  the  long,  leafy  summers 
the  heat  is  tempered  by  the  strong,  cooling 
breeze  blowing  constantly  from  the  Gulf,  and 
the  salubrious  temperature  of  her  winters  fills 
the  mind  of  the  jaded  tourist  with  thoughts  of 
Cairo  and  Sorrento. 

The  many  windings  of  the  river,  as  it  crooks 
and  turns  in  its  thirteen-mile  journey  through 
the  city,  are  spanned  by  numerous  artistic 


LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE  287 

bridges,  from  which  the  observer  catches 
glimpses  of  picturesque  and  lovely  scenery, 
under  a  soft  climate  outrivaling  that  of  the 
Riviera. 

Out  on  Government  Hill  is  the  beautiful  post 
and  military  reserve,  Fort  Sam  Houston,  whose 
name  commemorates  the  daring,  dauntless  and 
indefatigable  Indian  scout  who  led  his  men  to 
victory  against  the  Mexican  army  at  the  battle 
of  San  Jacinto.  In  the  first  flush  of  the  full 
springtime  of  each  succeeding  year  the  city  be- 
decks herself  in  wondrous  beauty  for  the  "Bat- 
tle of  flowers "  on  "San  Jacinto  day."  This  is 
a  memorial  of  love  given  by  the  chivalrous 
Texans  to  the  memory  of  their  illustrious  dead 
who  fought  with  General  Houston  at  San 
Jacinto. 

Its  climatic  attractions,  great  beauty  of  nat- 
ural scenery,  vast  wealth,  and  the  refinement 
and  hospitality  of  its  people,  together  with  its 
interesting  historical  associations,  make  the  San 
Antonio  of  to-day  one  of  the  most  charmingly 
picturesque  and  delightful  cities  to  be  chroni- 
cled in  the  memory  of  the  world-traveled  tourist 
and  pleasure-seeker.  Where  the  old  tourna- 
ment grounds  once  stood  is  now  a  beautiful 
modern  country  clubhouse,  whose  golf  links  and 
tennis  grounds  give  recreation  for  the  fashion- 
able society  world. 

All  through  the  passing  of  the  years  she  has 
held  intact  her  love  for  the  militant,  and,  with 
the  marked  enthusiasm  of  old,  great  crowds  of 


288  LA    BELLE    SAN    ANTONE 

her  people  will  gather  to  witness  the  military 
reviews  and  artillery  drills  of  the  large  garrison 
on  Government  Hill.  Also  has  she  clung  to  her 
first  and  oldest  religious  faith,  gracing  her 
streets  with  beautiful  cathedrals  and  numerous 
Eoman  Catholic  churches,  convents,  and  hos* 
pitals.  The  old  historic  Alamo  still  stands,  a 
silent,  suggestive  testimony  of  the  terrible  days 
when  the  town  was  enduring  her  bitterly  con- 
tested struggles  for  existence.  The  more  cred- 
ulous towns-folk  aver  that  the  real  live  ghost 
of  David  Crockett  nightly  haunts  its  silent,  soli- 
tary chambers,  and  for  this  the  old  place,  with 
its  moat-like  separation  from  the  main  part  of 
the  city,  is  shunned  by  the  ignorant  and  super- 
stitious after  the  coming  of  nightfall — a  crum- 
bling monument  to  an  out- worn  and  brilliant 
tyranny,  now  happily  ended. 


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DEC    18    1934 

HIM    16    W6 

JUN   *° 

DEC        ^ 

- 

LD  21-100m-8,'34 

267469 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


